LOOK YOU
~
a rolling scrapbook of life, the universe and
nearly everything...THOUGHT FOR LIFE: every day is a day at school [School motto: Gwell helpu na hindro
~ "If I can help somebody as I pass along, then my living
shall not be in vain."]

♫♫♫TO SELFIt seems that
the artist Leonardo da Vinci kept a notebook, Notes to Self,
a list of “things to do today”: buy paper; charcoal; chalk ...
describe tongue of woodpecker and jaw of crocodile...
These are my Notes to Self, a daily record of
the things that make me smile and which brighten up my day no
end, whether read in a newspaper, seen on TV, heard on the
radio, told in the pub, spotted in the supermarket, a good joke,
a great story, a funny cartoon, a film clip, an eye-catching
picture, a memorable song, something startling that nevertheless generates a spontaneous smile, curiosities spotted
along my walks through the Towy Valley...
This is a snapshot of life beyond the blue horizon... ...and
everyday a doolally smile of the day
PS:
The shortest distance between two people is a smile ...
Contact Me

Wednesday, March 9th

Where
next for the pointless path to nowhere laid by council
workers at Braintree, Essex? I empathise ... see below...

And for my next trick

THIS is not quite my last will and testament ― fingers
crossed ― but it is my last ‘smile of the day and testament’ for a wee
while anyway.

My reason for a break was actually triggered when my good
pal Chief Wise Owl (CWO) suggested that I should place on proper record my
rather smiley walk through time.

True, Look You
is a record of the world about me and those things in life that generate
much pleasure ― but CWO had noticed that I regularly input my own
observations on those things that so amuse me.

Not only that, I occasionally and crucially tell tales of
my own observations and experiences noted along my personal stroll
through time ― so I should jolly well collect these things together in a
proper fashion i.e. a book.

And of course, if I can actually pull such a thing
together it is now quite easy and relatively inexpensive to
self-publish ― which sounds a splendid idea having gone to the trouble of
collecting my somewhat offbeat observations, annotations and thoughts together under
one spine.

So I am going to have a go. I shall write a few chapters
to see how it goes. I mean, I find the physical act of writing very easy
― but can I pull all my wayward thinking and memories together under one
cover?

Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

So, before I disappear into the sunset and await a new dawn, I thought I would round off today with one of Look
You’s favourite observations, namely the online clickbaits which so amuse me.

It really is quite rare that I actually click, mostly because
I haven’t got the time to explore these curious tales ― but truth to
tell, I rather enjoy leaving it to my own imagination to figure out whether
the story takes the high road or the low road.

And this is why I enjoy reading Rod Liddle in The
Sunday Times. As a journalist, he explores all these yarns ―
that’s his day job ― and he is an expert at succinctly summing them up
in his entertaining fashion.

Remember this clickbait from a week or so back?

Married City Lawyer, 51, ‘had rush-hour sex in
street outside Waterloo Station’ with prominent barrister who
can’t be named because six weeks later she claimed she was
attacked

And this is how Rod explored and explained that glorious
headline:

Your witness

Two prominent London lawyers were caught having a bit of
how’s yer father, m’lud, outside Waterloo station.

The woman ― a barrister ― was seen with her knickers
around her ankles. Or briefs.

I suppose you could say they’d been taken
down and used in evidence ― because both were arrested and held in the
cells for a night.

I can tell you the name of the man ― it’s Graeme Stening,
51, of Windlesham, Surrey. I can also tell you his wife’s name, the
price of his house and what sort of law he practices.

But I can’t tell you the name of the lovely lady
barrister because six weeks after she accepted a caution she decided she
had been the helpless victim of an “assault”.

She had been too
drunk to consent, she retrospectively argued. And thus too drunk to
accept a caution. And therefore she can never be named, ever. But don’t
dare to call the law an ass...

Now that’s what I really call joining up the dots.
10/10

PS: I will continue to collect and cherish 5-Star Smiley things,
so I shall, hopefully, pop back sometime soon to keep the smileometer oiled and
flying high.

Thanks for your time.

Go well.

Tuesday, March 8th

Minus 24 hours and counting...

THIS is my penultimate smile of the day before I take an
extended break ― I’ll join up all the dots tomorrow.

So I thought, today, I’d do a quick trawl of the sorts of
things that contribute to my 400 Smiles A Day prescription for a
hopefully
extended walk on the sunny side of life.

For example, here is a typical melt-in-the-mouth clickbait
just made to tickle my imagination, and this time spotted in
The Telegraph:

And all because the lady loves...

Chocolate makes you smarter, study suggests

Perhaps someone should tell these experts that an Honours
Degree in ‘Smarter Than The Average Bear’ from the University of Life
depends on a ‘Royal Flush’ of genes inherited at the moment of
conception.

It also appears that a 5-star genetic inheritance can
often lie dormant down the generations, simply waiting for a suitable trigger
to emerge.

The best modern example of this is the ‘ordinary’
middle-class girl Prince William married. It was obvious from Kate
Middleton’s
wedding day that she was nothing of the ordinary sort; indeed, an
intriguing clue was how in charge she was
of such a formal knees-up and stress-inducing occasion watched by the
world at large.

And that despite the planet being distracted by her sister’s
eye-catching bum.

What I particularly remember is the open-coach journey
following the marriage ceremony, and how elegantly Kate bowed her head when
William saluted the National Anthem.

You can’t be taught these seemingly trivial things. Also, and despite
being such a ‘smiley’ character, she does sombre with eye-catching
gracefulness.

Make no mistake, there are some mightily powerful genes lurking somewhere
in her background. Or at least they were lurking.

Corrections and clarifications

“In a recent issue we mistakenly included a picture of
a hare when we were in fact talking about a rabbit. This is an
unacceptable mistake, and we are investigating how it could have
happened.” A caught-in-the-headlights correction spotted in Tatler, a British glossy magazine focusing on fashion, lifestyle,
high society and politics.

Methinks they were winding their readers up. But I
know the feeling. Take this upcoming EU referendum hoedown. Whether to
be a rabbit or a hare is a bugger of a conundrum because you sense that the Russian
hounds will probably get us all in the end anyway, no matter whether we are In Out,
Overground Underground, Wombling free...

Talking of Comrade Putin:

“I shall be an autocrat, that’s my trade. And the good Lord will
forgive me; that’s his.” Catherine
the Great, Empress of Russia.

She also said
this: “Power without a nation’s confidence is nothing.”

Are you listening, Mr Cameron?

And this: “In
politics a capable ruler must be guided by circumstances, conjectures
and conjunctions.”

In other words,
whether we are In or Out of the EU, it will all come down in the end to
what British prime minister Harold Macmillan (1957 to 1963) replied when
once asked what was the most difficult thing about his job:
“Events, dear boy, events”.

Or, as Donald
Rumsfeld, 83, American politician and businessman, so entertainingly
defined “events”: “There
are known knowns. These are things we know that we know. There are known
unknowns. That is to say, there are things that we know we don’t know.
But there are also unknown unknowns. There are things we don’t know we
don’t know.”

Oh
dear: wars and global warming pushes immigration and migration out of
all control; a mother-of-all financial crashes brings the world to its knees; terrorists set off a
dirty bomb, or two, somewhere in the world; a little visitor from outer space ―
not enough to wipe us all out but big enough to throw the world into
total chaos...

Enough already of such inevitable “events”. However...

Ashes to dust

“I would like my ashes to be scattered over Brent Cross Shopping
Centre so that I can be sure my children and grandchildren will visit me
at least a couple of times a week.” Vanessa Feltz, 54, English
broadcaster and journalist, speaking as a main guest at the 40th anniversary
of the opening of her local north London ‘shop until you drop’
American-style shopping mall, Brent Cross.

Vanessa did point out at the time, according to herself on her radio
show today, that she was repeating an old but funny joke.
However, the papers, as is their wont, took her seriously.

For bitter or for worst

“Girls want a wedding. They don’t want marriage. If only you could
have weddings without marriages.”Reported comment by writer
Salman Rushdie, 68, author of The Satanic Verses, which resulted in that
infamous fatwa.

To
balance his comment, perhaps he should also have added: “Boys want sex.
They don’t want relationships. If only you could have sex without
relationships.”

Very amusing ― but watch out for fleet-footed pussycats lurking in the rich
grasslands of Westminster, Sir Nick:

“I saw this bloke chatting up a cheetah. He was trying to pull a fast
one.” Comedian Tim Vine pulling an exceedingly witty one.

A rose by any other name

Now for a magical image captured and shared online ... of yesterday’s
podium presentation at the climax to Stage 1 in Vendôme of the
Paris-Nice cycling race, which as it happens I watched live on telly ― and was
captivated by something I had never seen happen before.

Arnaud Démare, 24, winner of stage 1 of Paris-Nice, plucks a
single flower and offers it to the young lady who had just
presented him with the bouquet. To say she looked exceedingly chuffed would
be an understatement. And yes, he had to be French.

Now if that doesn’t make you smile, nothing ever will.

As
I have said before, I am not a photographer proper, indeed I have no interest
in photography per se ― but I always carry a little camera simply to
capture the passing parade.

And just occasionally photographers (including idiots like me) come up with something which owes
nothing to technical expertise but everything to do with being in the right
place at the right time: “Click!”

Magic, compliments of a very professional and attentive Getty snapper (I
believe).

Final pause for thought

“I
let my fans down, I let the sport down that I have been playing since
the age of four and which I love so deeply. I know with this I face
consequences. I don’t want to end my career this way and I really hope I
will be given another chance to play this game.”
Meā culpā:
Tennis superstar Maria Sharapova, 28, who has failed a drugs test.

So
now we know why Sharapova makes those extraordinary noises when
she exerts herself on the tennis court. It’s her body complaining about
what is being done to it.

Let that be a lesson to all sports people, especially rugby players and
cyclists,
lest you become addicted to ambition and greed at possible serious cost
to your long-term health and prospects.

But that is much like telling Tony Blair to stop touring the planet and
charging such extraordinary sums of money to explain to the gullible how
he and George Bush managed to f***-up the world for their children and
grandchildren.

What a pathetically stupid species we are.

Monday, March 7th

VANESSA FELTZ on today’s early-morning ‘Getting to know
you’ spot on Radio 2 asked of her listeners: “What is the one gadget you
really can’t do without?”

Responses ranged from the alarmingly addictive mobile
devices, which most people appear totally lost without these days ― to
somewhat esoteric things like an electric blanket.

The first thing that went through my mind is this
computer I am now working on. And that is mostly down to its
word-processing abilities.

As someone who enjoys writing, in the days BC (Before
Computing), if I made some sort of error, or decided that a sentence or
a paragraph had to be moved elsewhere, then I would have to tear up the
sheet I was writing or typing on ― then pick myself up, dust myself off and
start all over again.

A computer makes the physical act of writing an effortless task
(the mental challenge remains something totally different, obviously). And of course,
not being the world’s best speller there’s the ever-present computer
spellchecker ― which as a bonus gives me a few extra laughs i.e. my
occasional ‘spell-cheque’ revelations.

As a bonus, the computer is the gateway to the interweb
where I can check anything out at a few clicks.

Then I thought ... hang on ... I managed perfectly well
before the invention of the personal computer, so I’d cope perfectly well without
it.

The secret of writing BC was, that I would work out ahead
in my mind what I wanted to say and how I would arrange it on the page ―
and check out any facts, as well as the dictionary for any word I wasn’t
confident about its spelling ― before starting to write or type.

Photography would have been similar. Before digital
cameras we would think carefully about what we wanted to photograph and
how best to capture it rather than waste expensive film and processing.

That would have been especially true in the early days of
photography when, essentially, they only had one opportunity ― which is
why those old photographs tell such glorious stories.

With a digital camera you can take a hundred images and
hope that there’s one good one hiding away in there.

So, the computer is off the list.

Actually, the one gadget that I really would miss is the
good old wireless. We didn’t have television at home until I was about
15 ― but I always remember a radio in the house. So I grew up with music.
Especially popular music of a melodic, rhythmic and catchy nature, which
I have always enjoyed.

So a radio is the one gadget I really would find it a
challenge to do without.

And talking of music, here’s my current list of song lyrics which
generate a smile ― oh, I’ve added one more, which brings the current
list up to 10 ― and it’s Ronnie Hilton’s A Windmill In Old Amsterdam.

This always reminds me of Uncle Mac and Children’s Choice
on a Saturday morning. And it’s not so much the song’s glorious
sing-along qualities, but this particular sequence:

♫♥♫♥♫♥♫
First they had triplets and then they had quins,
A windmill with quins in, triplets and twins in;
They sang every morning, “How lucky we are,Living in a windmill in Amsterdam, ya!”.

The delivery of
that “ya!”
gets me every time. It has a smile writ large
all over it. I guess it must have something to do with my presumed
Viking roots.

The link to the YouTube clip is at the bottom of the list.

So
here is my Smiley Top Ten ― with Divine Comedy’s National Express
heading the list, if only for its marvellous wit and wisdom...

My next choice is simply a sound effect, which comes
from Laurel and Hardy’s film Way Out West, and lurks in the
song The Trail Of The Lonesome Pine.

It’s the sequence where Stan Laurel does the deep-voice switch ―
and a frustrated Oliver Hardy asks the bartender for a mallet ― but
before he clouts Stan over the head with it he does a quick “Thump!
Thump!” on the bar ― and the sound is heard clearly on the track.

In the film clip you can actually see him as well,
obviously, which adds to the pleasure.

When you consider how seriously and worryingly
overcrowded the UK is becoming these days, England in particular ― not
helped by the fact that the nation is becoming seriously, troublingly
obese ― is there a more topical line in all of popular music?

“But it’s hard to get by when your arse is the
size of a small country...”

A FEW further contenders for my ‘Smileometer Top Ten
Song Lines’ ― those great lines from popular songs which always
guarantee a smile at every hearing.

Three songs today which, curiously, all feature the
spoken word as the smiley line that draws me in. The first comes from The Jungle Book,
in particular the Film/YouTube version:
I Wanna Be Like You---

King Louie sings the song following his kidnapping of Mowgli. The song is
about the old rascal wanting to be a human so he can do human things,
like stroll in to town ― but crucially, he wants the secret of man’s red
fire.

Bagheera, the oh-so-sensible black panther, along with Baloo, the
good-time, good-natured bear, come to Mowgli’s rescue.

However, Baloo gets carried away with the beat and the rhythm of King
Louie’s delivery of the song: “Yeah, well man,” says Baloo, “what a beat!”

To
which Bagheera responds in a hugely frustrated voice:

“Will you stop that silly beat business and listen!”

Honestly, that line is so me. If I had
children I would be forever saying “Will you stop that silly beat
business and listen!”. So it gets my enthusiastic vote.

Oh, and look out for that grey-haired monkey called
Flunkey, who keeps giving King Louie a hard time ― yes, it is definitely
Speaker of the House, wee John Bercow, who, under his grey hair, is
forever swatting the politicians under his care and giving them a hard
time.

A WHILE back I pondered the notion of putting
together a ‘Smileometer Top Ten of Song Lines’ ― those great lines from
popular songs that always but always generate a smile whenever I hear
them.

So today I’m going to start pulling them together.

My first choice, unlike all the rest, has
a background story with dots to join up...

Things plebeian

Back in 2012 there were allegations that Conservative MP and chief whip
Andrew Mitchell had called police officers “plebs” during a row at the
Downing Street gates ― he had demanded that they open the huge main
gates to allow him through with his bike, rather than use the smaller
side gate as the police had reasonably requested.

And
the huge row cost him his government job.

It
became known as ‘Plebgate’, sometimes ‘Plodgate’, occasionally
‘Gategate’.

Back then ‘pleb’ was not a word ordinarily chucked about as an insult,
certainly not a word heard in the Bible or the Asterisk Bar down at the
Crazy Horsepower Saloon.

It
was regarded as a word used as a term of abuse by a certain type of person ―
pleb is really a pretentious way of saying c***, certainly a politically toxic
word ― and Mitchell was allegedly such a person, someone who
apparently tended to use the
word in casual conversation.

Now I was only aware of the word complements of the song Cry Me A
River:

♬
♪
♫
“Remember,
I remember, all that was said;Told me love was too plebeian,
told me you
were through with me...”

And yes, it turns out that it was Andrew Mitchell who was the ‘pleb’ ―
and all because he insisted that the cops opened the big gates to let
him through on his little bike.

So
every time I now hear that line, “Told me love was too plebeian”, all I
can see is a fellow in a pink tie, riding a bike with a wicker shopping basket, and heading for the
Pearly Gates at Downing Street ― and I
smile and think: what a glorious wanker Andrew Mitchell was that
fateful day in September 2012.

As
my mother insisted: ignore the grand, sweeping, self-important
things people say and do ― it’s always those little things, the
spontaneous, the throwaway, the seemingly unimportant, that tell you
everything you ever need to know.

Now two of my favourite Friday clickbaits to go with two of my favourite
smiley song lines...

Cocks of the walk

‘I feel like the luckiest AND happiest man in the world’: Jerry
Hall, 59, wears navy dress and a £2.4m ring as she marries
Rupert Murdoch, 84, at 18th century London palace after
whirlwind romance

If Mother Nature don’t stop you, Father Time sure
will. But I did enjoy the juxtaposed navy dress and £2.4m
ring.

Mind you,
I liked this comment from
Marlandof
Amsterdam:

“I really wish them all the best. She looks
stunning and he looks chuffed.”

And finally, this exceedingly funny clickbait:

Larger-than-life veteran actor Brian Blessed, 79, says he’s
asked doctors to fit him with the penis of a ’20-year-old’ after
getting a £27,000 pacemaker

What a star. The trouble is, Brian, it looks as
if Rupert Murdoch has beaten you to it...

Thursday, March 3rd

A game of two halves

Face off at the double-take

Yes, it’s the current internet craze that uses
software to morph two famous faces into one uncanny image.

And with politics currently dominating the news
on both sides of the Atlantic ... well, I have to say, these
examples, alongside, are
truly clever and smiley.

Yup, Donald Clinton juxtaposed with Boris
Cameron.

Top marks ― sadly though, I still wouldn’t trust
any of them further than I could throw them.

Meanwhile, on the ‘In, Out, Shake-it-all-about’ EU
referendum front:

Global economy will suffer ‘shock’ if Britain leaves EU, G20
warns

The risk of ‘Brexit’ poses dangers for
international stability

☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼ ☼ ☼

‘There isn’t some amazing land of milk and honey waiting for us
if we leave’, Downing Street warns

Somewhere over the EU rainbow

The above clickbaits suggest that if Britain decides to
remain in the EU, then we will all be little Munchkins dancing along down the
Yellow Brick Road.

The Italian Lion will have found its courage; the French
Scarecrow its brain; and the Greek Tin Man its WD 40.

Angela Merkel is clearly Dorothy ― and David Cameron is
loyal little Toto (having kissed goodbye to his balls as detailed last
Sunday in ‘Good-bye, Testicles’).

Oh, and Chancellor George Osborne is obviously the Wizard
hiding behind the curtain, fooling most of the people most of the time
with his ‘magic’.

Seriously though, are the world’s financial movers and shakers really saying
with one voice that the fence surrounding the EU is so fragile that if
just one significant corner-post is removed i.e. Britain ― then the
whole edifice will come crashing down, dragging the world and its
mistress down with it, including Russia, China, the US and North Korea.

If this is so, why are David Cameron and George Osborne
desperate to sell us a pig in a poke (no ‘Piggate’ pun intended
following last year’s uncorroborated
anecdote that during his university years David Cameron put a “private
part of his anatomy” into a dead pig’s mouth)?

And what sort of grandiose commission promises are Cameron and
Osborne on? Significant seats on the European Commission, perhaps? We
should be told.

Tweet for Thought

Sir Richard Evans (@RichardEvans36); “We had
lunch last weekend with a man born in the Austro-Hungarian
Empire. He kissed my wife’s hand. They don’t make them like that
any more.”

I wasn’t sure whether that old Austro-Hungarian
smoothie had captivated his wife’s heart ― or captured the gems
off her rings in a lip-smackingly impressive fashion.

We definitely should be told.

And finally, mention of David ‘Cockermouth’ Cameron kissing goodbye to
his balls ― a couple of ‘Health & Softly-Does-It’ clickbaits to round
off the day...

A handful of nuts can extend your life by two years ... and it
WON’T make you gain weight

Well, as long as they’re not talking the nuts
known as Donald Clinton
and
Boris Cameron, I guess. And anyway, of late my nightly After
Eights treat is a small bowl of nuts of many textures.

Ward off heart attacks with rhubarb crumble: The fruit and veg
that can keep your blood pressure under control

Hm: rhubarb saves ― crumble kills.

Every day a day at school spot

I
was intrigued to see rhubarb described in the above clickbait as ‘fruit
and veg’. This, compliments of Wikipedia:

Rhubarb is usually considered a vegetable. In the United States,
however, a New York court decided in 1947 that, since it was used there
as a fruit, it counted as a fruit for the purposes of regulations and
duties.

Wednesday, March 2nd

St David’s Day revisited from on high

[@astro_timpeake] Astronaut Tim Peake yesterday wished the people
of Wales a
happy St David’s Day ― from on board the International Space Station

WHAT a splendid ambassador Major Tim Peake is for the UK.

Ever since he took off for the International Space
Station last December ― and becoming the first Briton to walk in space
to boot ― what I particularly enjoy is the way he has meticulously
mapped and prepared his journey through the pass we call Earth Orbit.

Just a few months ago the name Tim Peake would have meant nothing,
except to family, friends and colleagues, obviously.

But after just a month on the ISS, Major Tim rapidly achieved hero
status, particularly among children ― and indeed adults ― interested in
science.

He
has a fascinating past, is an exceptional high achiever ― and is
agreeably accessible.

And he convinced us that he is only human by accidentally dialling a
stranger back on planet Earth. Mind you, I have a sneaky suspicion that
he knew he was dialling a marginally incorrect number because he fully
grasped the good-natured publicity this would generate.

“He’s a natural science communicator," said Dr Emily Grossman,
scientist, broadcaster and educator. “He communicates in a way which
engages a wide audience of all ages. He is approachable and playful with
a sense of fun. He makes us feel like he is ‘just one of us’.”

And just to prove it, yesterday, St David’s Day, not only
had he learnt a few crucial words of Welsh ― and researched Welsh
companies contributing to various space projects ― he had also taken a
Welsh flag with him into space.

It’s his ability to think ahead beyond the obvious.
Peripheral vision as opposed to tunnel vision.

As Mr Spock would say: Live long and prosper, Tim Peake.

Oh that our politicians could look beyond the next
election and referendum.

As a bonus he tweeted a picture of Wales from the ISS:

Major Tim to ground control
@astro_timpeake: “And from up here ... it’s beautiful looking down on
Snowdon,
the Brecon Beacons and the Valleys ... enjoy a very happy St David’s
Day.”

Meanwhile, at the other end of civilisation...

An A to Z of dumbing down

Mention of the ultimate room with a view, today the UK
has taken a bit of a battering from the curiously named Storm Jake. (Why
couldn’t it have been called Jasper ― then we could all sing “Oh Sir
Jasper do not touch!”.

Anyway, I particularly enjoyed how our weather
forecasters kept pointing out that Storm Jake was actually named by
Irish meteorologists.

“IN AN ideal world, and given that today is February 29, an extra
day, a bonus day, a special day, an exceedingly pleasant
surplus-to-requirements day ― how would you spend it?” Thus
Vanessa Feltz on the ‘Getting to know you’ spot on her early morning
Radio 2 show.

“What would be your ideal way to spend it?” Vanessa continued.
“Globe trotting, perhaps:
breakfast in London, lunch in New York, supper in LA? A day indulging in
your very favourite food and drink? Going to the cinema or the theatre?
Or just soaking up the beautiful British countryside all around us?”

Yep, I was sold on that last one. Actually, between
you, me and every Towy Valley gatepost, every day is a special day.

So off I go ― and boy oh boy, was there a surprise
waiting for me down the long and winding track.

A pleasant if cold and frosty start, but the
forecasters warned that the dry, sunny and coldish week or so we’ve just
enjoyed is coming to an end. So best to embrace it while it lasts.

And there’s nothing quite like a great sunrise. As
my morning walk through the surrounding countryside always coincides
with the sunrise (when it’s available to view, that is) then it goes
without saying that I occasionally witness the spectacular, the
colourful, the curious, the smiley...

As I’ve mentioned before, I am not a photographer,
indeed I have no real interest in the art ― but I always carry a little
camera set on ‘auto-pilot’ to capture the magic of the passing parade.

And how about this for something different and
special?

A Pythagorean sunrise?
The square of the smile of the hypotenuse is equal to the sum of the
squares of the smiles of the other two sides

Now how wonderful is that?

However, within an hour or so of setting off on my
walk, the clear skies had disappeared and high cloud cover had silently
slid in over the Towy Valley.

I decided to take a detour via the bluebell wood to
catch up on developments.

Back on the 1st of January I’d noticed that there were
little green bluebell shoots all over the woodland floor.

Normally, from the moment the shoots first appear, to the
time when the woodland floor morphs into a lush carpet of green prior to
the first bluebell making its grand entrance, can take anywhere between
five to eight weeks. But it depends what happens to the weather in
between.

To revisit my annual spring lecture of joy unbounded:

Over the past 17 years I’ve kept a record of the
appearance of the first welcome bluebell of the season ― excepting 2001,
the year when Foot & Mouth struck and the countryside was out of bounds.

Along my springtime early-morning walks I divert
through the local bluebell woods.

I pass one particularly secluded and sheltered
south-facing location in Castle Woods, a real suntrap, a spot where a
solitary bluebell always but always appears a few days ahead of her
brothers and sisters, and a good week or so ahead of her cousins and the
rest of the family ― which is why I call ‘her’ Solitaire.

As a rule of thumb her appearance varies between
March 18 and March 30 ― excepting the occasional wayward year.

Spring 2006 was really cold, dry and late, and the
bluebell did not appear until April 8; in 2008, with its unusually mild
and wet winter and spring, Solitaire appeared, astonishingly, on
February 28.

However, this winter has, according to the weather
people, been the mildest and wettest since records began some 100-plus
years ago.

The January 2016 woodland floor had suggested another
early flowering season ― but the coldish weather of the past week or so
had thrown me and I hadn’t paid a visit to Castle Woods for several
days, so today I did.

And I had the surprise of my life...

Where have you been all my life?
February 2016: Solitaire in solitary confinement, waiting to be found
and appreciated

It was fairly obvious that the bluebell had appeared a
good couple of days previous, so I am happy to put its initial
appearance at the 26th ― that’ll learn me to keep a daily bluebell watch
― and all of which fits in perfectly with the weather records of winter
2016.

So it beats 2008 by a couple of days.

And there we have it, a perfect way to enjoy the start of
a Leap Year Day.

And of course, by one of those delightful coincidences,
2008 and 2016 have something in common ... both Leap Years. Oh, and in
2012 Solitaire appeared on March 1st.

Do I detect a weather pattern developing here?

Sunday, February 28th

Weird page-turner No 3

TIME for another in the series Weirdest Book
Title Ever ― I’ve already featured The
Jewish-Japanese Sex & Cook Book and How to Raise Wolves,
as well as What Bird Did That?

So here we go...

And here’s another fine balls up

Amazon: None for sale, curiously

At
first I thought the book had been written by “Any Welsh Guy” ― a
typical Nogood Welsh Boyo ― but it
turns out to be “Anne Welsh Guy”. Phew!

Also, when I initially spotted the glorious book cover online it would have been, oh,
around the time David Cameron’s drawn-out re-negotiations apropos the EU
referendum were drawing to some sort of closure.

And Jean-Claude Junker, President of the European Commission (and
dive-bomber of note ― yes, he’ll shite on anyone), had said:
“I have no Plan B ― because Britain will not leave.”

I
smiled one of my ironic specialities ― and remember thinking (with apologies to the ghost of Mary
Howitt):

The Junker and the Fly Boy

“Will you walk into my parlour?” said a Junker to a Fly,
“'Tis the prettiest little parlour that ever you did spy;
The way into my parlour is up a winding stair,
And I’ve many curious things to shew when you are there.”
“Oh no, no,” said the little Fly, “to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne’er come down again...”

...And now dear constituents, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:
Unto a dreadful counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Junker and the Fly.

However, back to Good-bye, Testicles and its book cover ― what I saw was a
British Bulldog in the bed, and in close attendance, and sporting some
evil grins, a German Shepherd and a French Poodle.

Yes, Chancellor Merkel and President Hollande about to rob Prime
Minister Cameron of his balls and his manhood.

Well, it made me smile.

Incidentally, the reason why I couldn’t find any Good-bye, Testicles
for sale on Amazon was ― ta-dah ― because it’s a spoof cover.

Yes, it’s a take off of this book...

Now how funny is that?

Be
that as it may, it does remind me of a tale recently spotted from Down
Under:

Crestfallen from Crestview: Never forget your Y-Fronts(Wearing underwear important in Queensland)

Yes, a sharp reminder for Queenslanders to wear clean
underwear in public, especially when working under vehicles.

From the Brisbane Times comes the tale
of a Crestview
couple
who drove to the local Super Store, only to have their
vehicle break down
in the car park.

The fellow told his wife to carry on with the shopping while
he tried to fix the problem...

The wife returned later with her loaded trolley ― only to
see a small group of people gathered near the car.

On closer inspection
she saw a pair of male legs protruding from under the chassis. Although
the chap was in shorts, his lack of underpants turned private parts
into glaringly public ones.

Unable to bare the embarrassment, she dutifully stepped
forward, bent down as elegantly as she could and quickly put her hand up his shorts, tucked
everything back into place ― and away from prying, mocking eyes.

She then took a deep breath and boldly stood up to face
the crowd.

When she looked across the car, she found herself staring
at her husband gaping at her in a gobsmacked manner.

The mechanic, however, had to have three stitches in his
forehead.

And the car suffered
two damaged nuts, apparently.

An urban legend? Probably, sadly ― but what a cracker. A nutcracker,
even.

But you never know. Truth is forever stranger than
fiction.

Saturday, February 27th

Open all hours

THERE’S currently a dialogue unfolding as to what extent
our major stores and supermarkets should trade on Sundays beyond the
restricted 10am to 4pm hours now allowed.

Corner shops such as Spar ― commercial premises of less
than 280 square metres floor area ― can open all the hours they wish
anyway, including Christmas Day and Easter Sunday.

Obviously the big boys and girls want a significant part
of the action. It is called greed.

That all brings me neatly to a tale told by Laurie Taylor on Thinking
Allowed on Radio 4 the other day...

Closed shop

My son would have been about, oh, 5-years-old, when we
took him on holiday to Brittany. I remember that he particularly liked
the broad sandy beaches and he was delighted to learn that we were going
to spend another day at the seaside.

But as we approached our destination he suddenly grew
apprehensive: “Mummy,” he said from the back seat in an alarmed voice,
“it’s Sunday.”

“Yes, darling,” said my wife, “what’s the matter with
that?”

“Won’t the ... won’t
the sea be closed?”

Excellent.

Curiously enough, one of the facts I learnt from Michael Portillo’s TV
series Great British Train Journeys detailing the expansion and
history of the railways back in Victorian times, was that, once a
nationwide rail network had begun to take shape, and an essential common time
of day had been established throughout the land, the trains did not run
on a Sunday between the hours of 10 and 4 ― because this was when people
were expected to be attending church.

How curious that is, the very hours our stores currently
open for business. The new religion, obviously.

It is indeed a strange old world.

Talking of which, next, a brace of choice tweets spotted along the way ―
the first about English stand-up comedian Eddie Izzard, 54, who happens
to be a
fully paid-up member of the Labour Party...

@andrewlawrence: Izzard to stand for
Labour’s NEC [the party’s ruling National Executive Committee]:
“I will stand up for ordinary people,” said the
multi-millionaire cross-dresser predominantly based in LA.

Gosh, “erotically harassed”. I wish. The EU is clearly falling apart at its very
French silk seams. Brexit it is then.

However, a point of order: First we had “gender neutral”
(not AC, not DC, not even Three Phase); next came “arbitrarily detained”
(Julian Assange); followed closely by “gravitational waves” (nipples ripples in
the fabric of space-time); and now we have “erotically harassed”.

Speak tidy, for goodness sake.

Do you know, the planet’s movers and shakers appear to be
living in a different universe to the rest of us. And they definitely
speak in tongues of galaxies.

Believe it or don’t corner

Alcohol is bad for your health ... EVEN in moderation: Just one
glass a day ‘increases the risk of certain cancers’

Dr Sally
Norton, NHS weight-loss surgeon, warns that alcohol is linked to
more than 60 different illnesses and diseases

However, you pays your money and takes your
medicine...

Beer could help ‘protect brain against Parkinson’s and
Alzheimer’s’

Researchers in China have found that a compound
in hops could protect brain cells from oxidative damage ― and
slow the development of degenerative brain diseases

Actually, I’m reminded of Billy Connolly, who suffers
from Parkinson’s. At a recent award ceremony he addressed his
Parkinson’s with a typical quip: “I wish he’d f****** kept it.”

I sometimes feel like that about all these contradictory
health and food warnings coming our way with every passing breath.

But before we arrive at that “D’oh!”
moment, yesterday the inaugural run of probably the most famous
locomotive in the whole world, the Flying Scotsman, took place following its
decade-long £4.2m refit as it chuffed its cheery way along the East
Coast Main Line from London King’s Cross to York.

Loads of eye-catching photographs have been doing the
online rounds and lovingly shared...

Powering ahead Flying
Scotsman: steaming past the Eggborough Power Station near Selby, North
Yorkshire

Some 300 VIPs, fundraisers, competition winners and
members of the public who paid up to £450 a treat were on board the Flyer for
the trip.

Also, multitudes lined the c.200 mile route, pretty much
all of them holding a camera of some description.

And now we come to that “Bugger!
Bugger!
Bugger!”
moment.

‘I had a feeling this would happen’: you wait for a train
and two come along at once and bugger it all up
Trainspotter Ryan Allen was among those lining tracks, bridges and
stations to capture on
camera the Flying Scotsman as it sped past. Unfortunately for him, he
met a Virgin...

I mean, hasn’t that happened to all of us, in some shape
or other?

Ryan drove 50 miles to Little Bytham in Lincolnshire and
waited nearly an hour to catch in person and on film the train on its journey from
London to York.

But his potentially beautiful video was ruined by an
infuriatingly-timed, common or garden Virgin train.

He shared his frustration on Twitter with the caption “I
had a feeling this would happen” ― the above picture suggests perfectly
what happens next. Probably even better than the video because it leaves
everything to the imagination.

Indeed his frustrated moment caught the imagination of the
media. Virgin Trains duly saw the tweet and have offered Ryan the trip
of a lifetime to Atlanta, Georgia to see one of the famous rail networks
by way of apology for photobombing his effort.

It’s called a win-win situation. Ryan gets a surprise
complimentary holiday. And Virgin is blessed with loads of positive publicity
― which will be
extended when Ryan takes his holiday because the media embraces with
gusto this kind
of story. And why not?

Pause for thought

So how does the Flying Scotsman manage to pull
millions of people without effort?

Well, everything worthwhile in life has rhythm, whether
it’s sex, singing, story-telling or a Scotsman in Flying mode. And the Flying
Scotsman has rhythm in spades.

The other day I pulled together on here, compliments of YouTube,
a series of perfect sound effects to wake up to through the alarm clock: from a car
refusing to start, via some cockerels sounding hilariously like the
morning after the night before ― to the theme music from Jaws and
2001:
A Space Odyssey.

But far and away my favourite is the sequence of twin
steam engines pulling a full load up the Lickey Incline, from the gentle
faraway sound at the bottom of the hill ― to the magnificent full bore and whistle
at the top.

And all oh so beautifully filmed.

Here are the links from my Desert Island Video Jukebox
Wake Up Call...

Incidentally, let’s hope Britain’s Eurovision song entry for 2016 (being decided tonight)
will be both musical and catchy ― with loads of rhythm thrown in for
good measure.

Talking of the rhythm of trains and sex, as we were, it will be hard
to beat this clickbait spotted today:

Married City Lawyer, 51, ‘had rush-hour sex in street outside
Waterloo Station’ with prominent barrister who can’t be named
because six weeks later she claimed she was attacked

Thursday, February 25th

“I am only a beer teetotaller, not a champagne teetotaller”
George Bernard Shaw (Proserpine in Candida)

I MAKE no apology for repeating one of my favourite quotes ― and this
time there is a specific reason...

“I need to laugh more and drink more glasses of
champagne ― even when there is nothing to celebrate.”
English actress Celia Imrie, 63, contemplating her next 20 years
.

And that reason is ... serendipitously tripping over this glorious gem of a quote from Celia:

“My mother was a Debrett’s-listed aristocrat and father
was a commoner from Glasgow who became a doctor. They’d met when she
stepped out of a posh social event one night. He was sitting in his car
outside and took a fancy to her and offered the gift of a fruit. I’m the
result of an apple.”

How totally wonderful. Celia sounds my sort of woman. What with
that champagne and the apple ― class to the core, obviously.

Meanwhile, some humour injected into the already boring old EU referendum
nonsense, compliments of a couple of letters to The Times:

EU In or Out?

Sir, A straw poll from a middle-aged,
middle-class dinner on Saturday evening: nine In, one Out. I’m
not sure if it was the French cheese or Italian wine that swung
it through.Jessica Armstrong, London SW6

EU what?

Sir, In contrast to Jessica Armstrong’s
middle-class Fulham dinner party, the straw poll here of
employees over a cup of tea and a British biscuit was 11 In, 24
Out. Obviously everyone here was sober at the time.Ian Brown, Managing Director, Industrial Maintenance
Services, Portsmouth

I was suitably impressed that Ian Brown had
deduced from the SW6 clue that the middle-of-the-road party was
in Fulham. Some neat footwork there.

Along a similar but different theme, a letter in The Telegraph:

In Out, On Off

SIR – Is there a gadget that will automatically
switch off my television and radio when the word “referendum” is
mentioned? Bill Scott, Leeds, West Yorkshire

I always have the TV Zap-a-dee-doo-dah thingy close
at
hand to instantly change channels. However, the best gadget of all is
the brain, which has a wonderful capacity to switch off at will.

Every day a day at school spot

There is currently much complaining apropos a popular
drama series on the BBC called Happy Valley, which I haven’t seen, but
is apparently ruined by dreadful sound quality
with viewers unable to hear what anyone is saying.

Well now, a couple of fascinating letters in The Telegraph:

Why TV producers are immune to mumbling

SIR – At the Science Museum in London there is a
small exhibit that made a deep impression upon me.
When you press a button, you hear a sentence spoken
which is so blurred and mumbled that it is quite
incomprehensible. Press the second button, and the words are
shown on a screen. Press the third button, and the same sentence
is played again. This time it sounds quite clear.
This demonstrates a principle that television programme
makers do not seem to be aware of: once you know the script, you
are no longer qualified to decide if the speech is
understandable. The only real judge can be the first-time
listener ― and this is usually the viewer.
Viewers of BBC One’s Happy Valley have complained about
the sound quality. It probably sounded fine to the producers,
because they knew the script.
A visit to the little gizmo at the Science Museum
should be a requirement for everyone involved in the making of
television programmes. Chris Addis, Cheadle, Staffordshire

Hi-fi mumbling

SIR – Part of the reason for mumbling on
television programmes is that producers review the productions
on high-quality studio devices, while most of us will watch on
television with small speakers.
Producers should view their programmes on these so that they
know what most of us will receive.Stephen Green, Weymouth, Dorset

Now how interesting is all that? As I always suspected,
media folk live in a galaxy far, far away.

Actually, the best viewer comment I saw
about Happy Valley suggested that the series
should be moved from its Yorkshire base to the Mumbles on the western
edge of Swansea Bay.

Very droll.

Wednesday, February 24th

Lights, camera, action

TWO intriguing clickbaits today, both of which generated
a cynical variety of smile ― and I duly clicked out of curiosity.
First...

Jeremy Clarkson apologises for punching Top Gear
producer Oisin Tymon and calling him a ‘lazy Irish c***’ as
presenter and BBC pay out £100,000 in compensation

Oisin Tymon launched the six-figure lawsuit against both
Clarkson and the BBC after the Top Gear presenter gave him a bloody lip
in a fight in a Yorkshire hotel over the unavailability of a steak meal
after a day’s filming, which of course led to Clarkson being sacked from
the motoring show.

Today Clarkson apologised and agreed to contribute to the
payout.

It’s the first time the presenter has formally said
sorry in public although he previously tweeted his regrets and attempted
to contact Tymon directly.

I’ve said it before, but what I found surprising at
the time of the infamous Clarkson-Tymon fracas was, and despite the
number of people present during the extended shemozzle ― BBC and Hotel
staff, along with guests ― not a single frame of the incident surfaced.
Not even CCTV footage.

And remember, everything these days is filmed to death.

Now that a settlement and apology has been signed, sealed
and delivered,
should the nation now prepare itself for a grand premier?

Incidentally, Clarkson
now works for Amazon, where he will drone on and on, obviously; his
new motoring show will go head-to-head with the revamped Chris Evans-led
BBC Top Gear.

And talking of head-to head confrontations...

War of the words

Cameron to Corbyn: ‘Put on a proper suit, do up
your tie and sing the national anthem’

The Prime Minister and Labour leader trade blows
as Prime Minister’s Questions turns nasty and descends into a
war of words about the NHS and personal sartorial standards

David Cameron had launched a strident defence of the
Government’s health policy, insisting: “I have to say ― I think if Nye
Bevan [Labour politician and founder of the NHS] was here today, he’d
want a seven-day NHS because he knew the NHS was for patients up and
down our country.”

The Prime Minster went on to claim that the Government
was building an NHS for patients, prompting Jeremy Corbyn to highlight a
campaign against cuts in Cameron’s own Oxfordshire constituency.

The remark prompted a heckle from the Labour benches
about Mary Cameron, the PM’s mother, recently signing a high-profile petition against local
authority cuts.

David Cameron responded: “I think I know what my mother
would say, I think she’d look across the Despatch Box [at Jeremy Corbyn]
and say ‘Put on a proper suit, do up your tie and sing the national
anthem!’.”

Cue Commons uproar.

The furious Labour leader hit back: “If we’re talking of
motherly advice, my late mother would have said: ‘Stand up for the
principle of a health service free at the point of use for everybody
because that’s what she dedicated her life to, as did many of her
generation.”

Apropos personal appearance, when Jeremy Corbyn is at the House of
Commons he looks perfectly smart to me. Okay, he’s not as smoothly turned out as
Cameron ― but would Corbyn want to look like the very model of a
modern spiv?

After the exchanges, Jeremy Corbyn quoted Albert Einstein on
Twitter in a fresh dig at the PM:

What a totally brilliant quote that is. I had never heard it before. And
it earns my smile of the day.

Actually, if the author of the quote had not been obvious, I would have
guessed it was the work of Mark Twain.

But most telling of all, in the Mail Online comment
section ― and remember, the Daily Mail is very much a paper of the right
and of the Tory party ― the ‘Best rated’ comment, by a country mile,
was this:

The Truth, Preston: Here goes Cameron again with his personal insults.
This is what he does if anybody disagrees with him ... he then looks
round to see how many are laughing. He is a very nasty, bullying
individual.
Cameron, please do us all a favour and resign. He
cannot help it, the power has gone to his head and he thinks he is
better than everyone else. He thinks he is right all the time, nasty,
nasty man ... untrustworthy.

Whisper it, but
I caught myself nodding along with that comment. Indeed, I too find Cameron
rather impossible to trust. He is a spiv in an ultra-smooth suit. It’s
a surprise he hasn’t cut himself on its creases.

Tuesday, February 23rd

“Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see”
Mark Twain (1835-1910)

LISTENING to Vanessa Feltz’ radio show early-morning, and
she launched into the day’s ‘Getting to know you’ spot where unusual and
off-beat questions are asked of her listeners.

Today, it was trigged by producer of the show Kerry, who
the previous evening on Facebook had been posed this question: “You have
been kidnapped and the cast of the last show you watched on television
are coming to find you. Rate your chances of rescue.”

“So what was the last thing you watched on telly last
night?” said Vanessa.

So let’s see: it could have been Huw Edwards and the crew on the BBC’s
10 o’clock News ... or God forbid, everyone on The Jonathan
Ross Show on ITV ... or the nurses and doctors compliments of
24 Hours in A&E on More 4...

Vanessa herself had been
watching The People v OJ Simpson ― American Crime Story on
BBC2.

It sounded the sort of game that was made to tickle my
juvenile gene.

The last programme I watched on Monday, before going on
the computer, was at 7
o’clock on the Syfy channel: Star Trek: The Next Generation.
Curiously, I have never seen Star Wars, but I enjoy watching Star Trek.
Strange, but true.

Anyway, back with last night’s Star Trek episode,
Time’s Arrow.

It was a particularly entertaining episode where Data the
Android is whisked back in time to the America of 1893, where he will lose his head.
Literally.

Always the Twain shall meet

Yes, along the way he meets and engages with Mark Twain ― or Samuel
Clemens as he is referred to in the episode (both characters pictured above).

Anyway, imagine that: I’ve been kidnapped and the crew of
the Enterprise, in particular Data and guest Mark Twain, ride to my rescue.
It’s almost worth being kidnapped.

A simple, silly game, but I had no chance to submit my
thoughts to Vanessa. So here we are instead.

Mind you,
a couple of listener efforts tickled my old smileometer.

One contributor had been watching Dad’s Army, so
that rescue would have been a laugh a minute. At least you would die
laughing if it all went horribly wrong.

Another listener mentioned Top Gear. I thought a
word of warning should have been issued: make sure you are not
kidnapped and held in Argentina.

The curiosity shop

The top two ‘Most shared’ clickbaits on the
Telegraph website this afternoon were:

1) Mobile
phones are ‘cooking’ men’s sperm

2) Hitler ‘had tiny deformed penis’ as well as just one
testicle, historians claim

Yesterday, these were the top three:

1) Boris
Johnson exclusive: There is only one way to get the change we want ―
leave the EU

2) Eating chocolate
‘improves brain function’ ― study

3) George Osborne will abolish pension perk in tax bombshell,
claims former minister

Time, methinks, for our leaders to dump their mobiles and start eating
lots and lots more chocolate.

Monday, February 22nd

What a wonderful world it would be

YESTERDAY I briefly pondered whether you might be a ‘Cat’
or a ‘Dog’ person ... as it happens, a couple of weeks back there was a
two-part series on BBC television about our pets...

Man’s best friend testCats v Dogs – Which is Best?Armed with the
latest global scientific research, Chris Packham
and Liz Bonnin battle it out to find the definitive answer
to the burning question - which are best, cats or dogs?

Chris Packham championed the canines and Liz Bonnin the
felines as they sought to establish supremacy in the
domestic-pet stakes (mind you, with a surname like Bonnin, Liz should
have been the dog person, surely?).

In the first programme the pair questioned vets and
animal scientists and conducted tests to compare senses, physical
prowess and brain power. It would appear that dogs are more intelligent
― but to quote a Sunday Times preview, “who can say the
participating moggies were actually trying?”.

Most impressive though was a sequence where a
friendly mountain-rescue dog called Boris (ho, ho, ho) unerringly tracks Chris
Packham across Manchester City centre after a 40-minute delay.

Essentially, and relative to body size, dogs have bigger and
more complex brains, more stamina and superior emotional intelligence.
Cats, on the other hand, are better at seeing in the dark, more agile,
faster over short distances and their hearing is more acute.

It was an honourable draw, I guess.

Mind you, what was it Mark Twain said? “If man could be
crossed with the cat, it would improve man, but it would deteriorate the
cat.”

Be that as it may, reflecting on the central question as to whether cats or
dogs are best, I was struck by something quite different ― but
before I get there, this from today’s listings page in The Sunday Times
TV guide, in particular the viewer
comment corner...

You
say

Surely, Cats v Dogs – Which is best?
should have been titled Cats v Dogs – Which Are Better? Peter Burville

It is quite remarkable that the BBC, the
bastion of good grammar and pronunciation (obviously, a joke ―
lol) could make two howlers using only three words, innit?Barry Thompson

Grammatically speaking, the title was a complete dog’s
dinner ― and no one at the BBC even noticed. Neville James

The appalling grammar was only bettered by the appalling
“science” on display. Make sure you cook up some “science” to
match your preconceived conclusions. The BBC and science: dumb,
dumber and dumbest. Tony Braybon

Hamsters get my vote. Debbie Martin

Well, the programme was light-entertainment ― and the
“science” was, well, “entertaining”.

As to the grammatical thingy ― I really am not qualified
to comment on that. However, given that I read and write by sight and
sound only i.e. if it looks okay, trips easily off the tongue and
serenades the ear, it gets my
vote: save ... send.

And, truth to tell, Cats v Dogs – Which is Best?
sounds and looks better than Cats v Dogs – Which Are Better?

Intriguingly, in the blurb accompanying the picture, above, the BBC does use “which are best - cats or dogs?”

I presume there will be a response from other You sayers ,
so I shall look forward to it.

Anyway, going back to the Cats v Dogs thingy ... what did cross my mind was
this, with a nod of acknowledgment towards Mark Twain: which particular characteristic of the creatures would I have wished to
have been incorporated in the human DNA?

Well, dogs are noted for their loyalty, companionship,
unconditional love ― oh, and being delightfully non-judgmental. But I do actually
know people who possess such qualities ― not many, for sure, but they are
out there.

As for a pussycat, there is nothing quite like a moggy
jumping up onto your lap and furiously purring its pleasure. It vibrates
through your whole body.

But crucially, if a cat is not in the mood to purr,
nothing will entice it to do so ― so we know to leave it alone and
give it time and space to recover its emotional equilibrium ― or
should that be emotional purrquilibrium?

Just imagine if we humans had been gifted the ability to purr
our pleasure. And if we didn’t want to purr, you would never be told
“C’mon, cheer up, it’s not the end of the world!”.
We would simply be given time and space to recover our purrquilibrium.

What a wonderful world this would be

Sunday, February 21st

The wheel always turns full circle

WHETHER you are an European Union ‘In’ or ‘Out‘ person, a ‘Trump’ or a
‘Clinton’ individual, a ‘Cat’ or a ‘Dog’ type, the newspaper clickbaits
keep whizzing past at a furious pace...

Fear of hackers forces Sony to dust off the fax machine

Chief executive of Sony Pictures reveals he now
writes sensitive messages by hand and sends them by fax

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☼

Millennials rewind to the Eighties as cassette sales surge

The humble music cassette is back at the forefront of American
pop music culture ― decades after it was left for dead by the
compact disc

Not only do I still posses a working fax machine,
as well as a couple of fully functional cassette
player/recorders, I also have a VHS machine in perfect working
order ― which suggests that cheques and cash will never
completely give way
to cards and smart technology.

It would seem that the smarter things become, the
easier they are to break or hack.

And mention of everything going round in circles:

Miss Transgender UK pageant winner stripped of her title for
‘not being transgender enough’

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☼ ☼ ☼
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☼

Let boys wear dresses, head tells parents

Head of £33,000-a-year Heathfield boarding school
in Ascot, Jo Heywood, says boys should wear princess dresses and girls should dress up
as firemen as she calls for ‘gender neutral’ parenting

The ‘Ascot Gavotte’ springs effortlessly to mind.
And I never know these days whether the name ‘Jo’ is male,
female or gender neutral.

☼
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☼

Lock of John Lennon’s hair sells for $35,000 (£24,298)

A snip of John Lennon’s hair that was cut by a German hairdresser in
1967 as the Beatle prepared to appear in a film has been sold at
an auction in Dallas

Boris Brexit and a Boris Bike

I was going to give the ‘In, Out, Shake It All About’
European Union referendum a bit of a miss for a few days ― but I’m
transfixed by all the comings and goings. So...

For those in faraway places, etc... the Boris Bike is London’s
self-service, bike-sharing scheme for short journeys ... simply go to
any docking station ― no need to book, simply hire a bike, ride it where
you like, then return it to any docking station.

So, with Mayor of London Boris Johnson having rejected David Cameron’s invitation
to climb aboard his ‘EU IN’ bicycle made for two and a trip to Brussels
― and opted instead for the ‘EU OUT, OUT, OUT’ campaign, this tweet
spotted in the wake of the announcement:

EU, Me and Us
(A Look You starter for ten apropos the INs & OUTs of the EU referendum)

“I didn’t like some of David Bowie’s music, and I
thought most of his outfits were pretentious twaddle.”Jeremy Clarkson, 55, selects
top gear following the singer’s death.

I’ve
revisited that “Hear, hear!”
quote from last month because, as I said at the time, I was taken
aback by the media’s over-the-top reaction to Bowie’s death; so much so
I abandoned all news and music stations for a couple of days to take in a
bit of clear air.

Something similar happened again last night, around 10 o’clock, when
David Cameron’s EU renegotiations came to a sudden conclusion. I decided
there and then that I would not watch any news channels for a couple of
days ― or at least until all the immediate OTT doolallyness had died down.

However, I am already aware that June 23 is the X-me-quick day.

So I thought it an opportune moment to share some of my
favourite quotes thus far, with a few ‘Letters to the Editor’ thrown in
for good measure.

“This is not a real battle. It’s more like a haka before a rugby
game.” The Tory MP Daniel Hannan, 44, dismisses the “charade” of
the Prime Minister’s EU reform plan which has involved lots of sticking
out of tongues.

Do you know, I remember thinking as we awaited the bell
to indicate the final lap apropos the referendum---

Was I correct in
presuming that David Cameron’s surprisingly early announcement of his
intention to leave Downing Street this term (a surprise even to his own
party) was because, behind the scenes, the
buggers burghers of Brussels had
promised him the top job in Europe if he kept Britain in the EU?

Watch this space, as they say.

“The European Union is like the orchestra playing
on the Titanic.” EU leaders are
failing to tackle Europe’s big problems, says Italian Prime Minister
Matteo Renzi.

Wow!
I am clearly not the only one sensing trouble ahead with an iceberg or
two ― or three ― or four ― maybe more ― lying in ambush in the dense
political fog that is Europe.

Anyway, on with the music...

“I am living in Europe, of course, as it were; a tiny little
cloud-bolted, rainy corner of sort-of Europe, a cake-filled, misery-laden grey old island.” Emma Thompson, 56, British actress, writer, Oscar winner and
Europhile,
battles against “Brexit” madness in a bizarre tirade against quitting
Brussels ― and seemingly possessed by the ghost of Marie-Antoinette.

Let ‘em eat cake, indeed. Either that or Emma really has it in for Great
British Bake Off treasure Mary Berry big time. So what did
folk make of the Leftie Luvvie’s
outburst?

Love lost?

“Who
is this Emma Thompson? Is she another of Labour leader Jeremy
Corbyn’s former girlfriends?” JEM Tugwood of Worthing, in
a letter to the Daily Mail.

Euro zone

“Emma Thompson says that she feels ‘European’. She should not
confuse being European with being in the EU. The former is an
accident of geography and birth, the latter is political.”Jeremy Tozer of Stoke Row, Oxfordshire, in a letter to The
Telegraph.

Historical whispers

“There’s no need for a referendum on our membership of the EU.
The decision was made 450,000 years ago when the land bridge
linking Britain to Europe collapsed, forming the English
Channel.” John Hayes of Welford, Northants, provides a
concise history cum geography lesson in a missive to the Daily
Mail.

By the way, Emma
Thompson did later explain that her comment was meant as a joke.
Oh yes, she is also listed on Wikipedia as a comedian. Lol.

I trustEnglish
celebrity chef, restaurateur, and media personality Jamie
Oliver, currently campaigning for a “sugar tax”, is not going to
get involved in EU politics...

Gas mask 5

“He might be a good cook, but why should
anyone take Jamie Oliver seriously when he names his children
Daisy Boo, Poppy Honey, Petal Blossom Rainbow and Buddy Bear. No
wonder Zowie Bowie saw the light.” P S Young of
Rotherham, in a letter to the Daily Mail.

I did check those names ... tick ... but they do
all have one common or garden Christian name: Pamela, Rosie, er,
Rainbow ― and Maurice.

If you didn’t smile you’d go mad.

A matter of trust

“Could someone please explain why, if we don’t
trust the EU with our currency, we should trust them with
everything else?”Brian Christley of Abergele, North
Wales, in a letter to the Western Mail.

No gain, no ouch!

“Apropos the EU referendum, should we be
alarmed that television subtitles often render “the in campaign”
as “the income pain”? Joanna Hackett of London, SE1, in an
amusing one-liner to The Telegraph.

Bird of Paradise

“Given the confusing arguments in favour of or
against maintaining Britain’s membership of the EU, Richard
Walker suggests that Ladybird should publish a book called
How it works: The European Union. This would probably be the
shortest book in history, consisting of three words: ‘Not very
well’.” Tore Fauske of Cheltenham, in a letter to The
Telegraph.

And there you have it. Hopefully, this concise starter guide to the
European Union has helped.

Friday, February 19th

More Trumpety-Trump, Trump, Trump, Trump... ♬
♪
♫

WHENEVER I see old Donald Trump strutting his stuff on the telly I am
reminded of something or other ― and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

Then I spot this newspaper missive:

Orbicularis oris

“Judging by his facial expressions, Donald Trump thinks he is
Mussolini.” J W Jures of Newhaven in a letter to
the Daily Mail.

Joking aside, Trump’s pout is an alarming reflection of Mussolini at
full bore
at the height of his dictatorship.

Spell-cheque corner: ‘ll’ ― as in ll Duce (‘The Leader’) ― came
up as ‘lol Duce’. Oh dear, ‘The Laugh Out Loud Leader’ (or ‘The Lots Of
Love Leader’, as David Cameron thought when he first started texting, at
least according to his friend Rebekah Brooks).

Is not ‘lol Duce’ the best spell-cheque suggestion yet?

Rewind---

Last Monday I featured this clickbait: “Church accused of
‘trolling’ ailing Richard Dawkins”

After being accused of being the meddlesome troll living
under the bridge, the Church of England
defended its prayers for the rapid recovery of the well-known atheist
Professor by pointing out that that is its day job.

Well now, following all the fuss that the Church
should not interfere in the lives of atheists, a rather thoughtful letter duly surfaced in
The
Telegraph:

Healing prayers

SIR – I am an
atheist. When I became ill with cancer, the believers among my family
and friends prayed for me ― which I felt was an act of kindness.
I also reckoned that if I was right in my non-belief
and they were wrong, no harm had been done. If it was the other way
round, then a good word had been put in for me.
There is no recurrence of my cancer at present.Captain Kim Mockett,
Littlebourne, Kent

The
letter reminds me of Pascal’s Wager, an argument in apologetic
philosophy by the 17th-century French philosopher, mathematician and
physicist, Blaise Pascal (1623–62). It posits that humans all bet with
their lives either that God exists or that he does not.

Pascal argues that a rational person should live as
though God exists and seek to believe in God. If God does not actually
exist, such a person will suffer only a finite loss (some pleasures,
luxury, etc.), whereas they stand to receive infinite gains (as
represented by eternity in Heaven) and avoid infinite losses (eternity
in Hell)

In a nutshell, best to believe that God exists. If you
gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing.
Wager then, without hesitation, that He exists.

Mind you, given that I sometimes think, what with the
infinite doolallyness of the world about me, that I am actually He
playing the Father, the Son and Holy Ghost of all computer games (or, if you are reading this,
then you are He), it raises an intriguing question:

Does Donald Trump really exist?

And on that note, Boing!:
even God has to find time for bed.

Thursday, February 18th

Weird page-turner No 2

A
COUPLE of weeks back I stumbled upon a Twitter thread dedicated to the
Weirdest Book Title Ever ― and I featured The Jewish-Japanese Sex & Cook Book and How to Raise
Wolves.

What North American bird did that? I say Madonna. Where do I send my
answer?

[If it were a British bird,
then I would plump for Adele, who is forever flirting with shite
happenings.]

☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼ ☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼

Sticking with things American ... a letter in The Times:

All you need is glove

Sir, Geoffrey Evans says he saw a “buy one, get one free”
offer for gloves. This reminds me of the story of Sam Goldwyn, who
worked in the glove business in Europe before moving to the US and
becoming a film producer.
He was told it was impossible to export his gloves to
America because of the high duties, so he sorted his wares into
left-handed and right-handed. The former he sent to New York and the
latter to Boston. However, he failed
to pay the shipping charges so, when the goods were not claimed, the
port authorities auctioned them off. Goldwyn was the only bidder.Paul Jones,
Nottingham

That
marvellous tale brings to mind just a few of Sam Goldwyn’s famously amusing
quotes:

A verbal contract isn't worth the paper it's written on.

Let’s have some new clichés.

If I could drop dead right now, I'd be the happiest man alive.

A wide screen just makes a bad film twice as bad.

When someone does something good, applaud!
You will make two people happy.

I'm willing to admit that I may not always be right, but I am never
wrong.

When I want your opinion I will give it to you.

Give me a smart idiot over a stupid genius any day.

That final quote brings to mind my observation from yesterday apropos
Stephen Fry and David Cameron: It is a great truth that the cleverest people are also
the most stupid.

Wednesday, February 17th

Choosing the perfect old bag

“Only one of the great cinematic costume designers
would come to an awards dressed as a bag lady.”Baftas host
Stephen Fry welcomes Jenny Beavan as she collects her costume design
trophy for her work on Mad Max: Fury Road.

She was wearing trousers, a leather jacket and a scarf ―
but looking at photographs of her appearance, she should have got her
own back and started singing: “Feed the birds, tuppence a bag...”

Unsurprisingly, the social media sky duly fell on Fry’s
head for his perceived insult ... Mad Fry: Fury Road.

And not for the first time he deleted his Twitter account
following all the vitriol, saying “too many people have peed in the
pond”.

But what does he expect when he himself peppers his
tweets with obscenity?

“I
don’t feel anything other than massive relief ― free at last.”
Stephen
Fry, again, on quitting Twitter one more time, adding that it was “like a boulder
rolling off my chest”.

And
the passing parade moves on ― but not before a quick pause for
thought...

Frying tonight

If Stephen Fry’s “bag lady” remark to friend Jenny Beavan
had been made backstage, in private, everyone would have laughed it off,
presumably. But I am astonished that Fry’s XXXXL brain did not warn him
against saying it on live TV in front of millions. With social media
waiting in ambush.

Similarly, David Cameron’s recent much-derided warning to MPs
to ignore the views of Eurosceptic grassroots members of the Tory party apropos the
upcoming EU referendum. What was the fellow thinking of?

It is a great truth that the cleverest people are also
the most stupid. No wonder the world is in a mess when our movers and
shakers have no sense of the ambush that always awaits when you enter the
pass.

Thankfully, I am probably the most average person in the
country (height excepted). There’s a lot to be said for being 50 per
cent clever and 50 per cent wise. After all, back in the day, 50
per cent was a pass mark.

Yesterday I shared what are believed to be the first ever photographs to feature
people smiling. Normally, I smile at what I am looking at ― or listening
to ― or thinking of ― so it was interesting for it to be turned on its head.

But today I’m back with smiling along with what’s in
front of me.

Coming up, a headline and a pastiche of pictures spotted
in Mail Online...

Are these the worst red carpet disasters EVER? Music’s biggest stars
hit an all-time low in the style stakes at the Grammy Awards

AS IT says up there on the Welcome Mat, Look You
is a daily record of the things wot make me smile and which brighten up
my day no end.

Well now, listening this morning to Radio Cymru,
the Welsh language station, there was a gent on from the National
Library of Wales discussing the Library’s positive relationship with
Wikipedia.

One topic that came up was a brief history of early
photography, in particular the fascinating tale of a Welsh lady, Mary Dillwyn
(1816-1906), claimed to be the earliest female photographer in Wales,
who took amateur photographs of flowers, animals, family and friends in
the 1840s and 1850s.

One of her images from 1853 is said to be the first
portrait photograph of a smile ― bearing in mind, of course, that all
those memorable early images always have people looking exceedingly
stern.

Mary Dillwyn managed to capture the fleeting smiley
expression of her young nephew, William Mansel Llewelyn (Willy), as he
gazed intently at something off camera. The photograph, I learn
compliments of Wikipedia and the National Library of Wales, is typical of Dillwyn’s informal approach.

Just Willy by Mary DillwynBut is
he gazing at the Mona Lisa?

Young Willy’s image has survived its journey through
time because his enigmatic smile was the first to be captured in a
photograph in Britain ― and probably the world.

Google ‘Mary Dillwyn – Wikipedia’, and you will
find out more about this fascinating lady.

What you will also discover lurking in one of the links
is that the ‘first
smile’ claim is disputed: see, for example, this equally well-known
c.1844 ‘Edinburgh Ale’ image in the Hill & Adamson photography gallery...

One for the road: Here’s lookin’ at you, chaps“Mine
is the wench on the right, gents ... the middle one looks your type,
George – and James, sorry old boy, you’ll have to entertain the
spare...”
(But who is the fellow on the right talking to on his mobile?)

This marvellously smiley image was reportedly taken
just six years after the very first photograph of a human.

But it is not really a portrait, more perhaps what I
would describe as the first photograph ever to capture the casual magic
of the passing parade.

It catches perfectly how you would expect to observe
three men in a bar enjoying a happy hour.

It is as captivating as any modern photograph ― and
carries overwhelmingly the motion that ‘Content and an eye for a great
picture trumps technical brilliance every time’.

Oh yes, I enjoyed this
‘glass half-full’ slurp
of information about the Edinburgh Ale picture:

On the table are
three glasses of ale. According to a contemporary account, Edinburgh Ale
was “a potent fluid, which almost glued the lips of the drinker
together”.

“Glued the lips of
the drinker together,” observes an unaccredited writer.
That has to be one of the oddest descriptions of how a beer tastes I
have ever read. It makes me want to try an Edinburgh Ale. I’ve got to
start working on that time machine.

As stated on the Welcome Mat: Look You is a daily
record of the things wot make me smile and which brighten up my day no
end. Tick. √

Monday, February 15th

Give me a ring sometime soon

WELL, it’s the day after the Valentine’s Day ‘Love
is all @ the Butterfly Ball’ stuff, in particular the cross-species smooching
and mooching as featured in yesterday’s smile of the day.

I also mentioned that I’d perused a picture gallery
labelled ‘Animals kissing for Valentine’s Day’. One image featured swans
doing that spectacular heart thing they do when true love comes calling.

But things don’t always work out as they should. Here, a
brace of telling images from my own files.

First, a couple of swans do that romancing thing I
mentioned above...

Swan Lake: If I said you had a beautiful body...The
body language, however, suggests that everything isn’t quite going all
Kind Hearts and Coronations ... a touch of the ‘In your dreams, sunshine!’

The gossip on the oxbow lake, though, whispers that the pair did
decide to make a go of it ― but disaster waits in ambush...

The engagement is announced ... however...
“Are you sure this is where you dropped the bloody ring?”

As Chief Wise Owl always says at moments such as this: say nothing is best.

Talking of love, this is my favourite clickbait of the
day:

Prayers for Richard Dawkins from Church of England

After being accused of ‘trolling’, the Church of England defends
praying for well-known atheist Professor Richard Dawkins, 74,
following his stroke

Professor Dawkins has since said he was
“improving” and thanked well-wishers for their support.

That episode really did make me smile. As did the
following brief exchange on a comment board.

Someone called ‘Belstaff’ was having a right old go at
the Church for getting involved because it was none of their business,
what with Dawkins being the world’s most famous atheist, probably. (Personally, I thought it quite a smart and
clever bit of footwork by the Church.)

Other posters defended the Church and pointed out that as
Christians they pray for everyone, irrespective of their beliefs.

One defendant signed off thus:

Elysium
(responding to Belstaff, above): “God bless you and may the scales fall from
your eyes :-)”

Realeastender: “Belstaff, why are you selling them? Have they stopped
working for you?”

Oh dear, that last one generated a generous smile hereabouts ― and it seemed like a
good time to make my excuses and leave to catch up with the swans and
see if they’ve recovered the ring...

Addendum

A wonderfully thoughtful letter duly surfaced in The
Telegraph:

Healing prayers

SIR – I am an atheist. When I became ill with cancer, the
believers among my family and friends prayed for me ― which I felt was
an act of kindness.
I also reckoned that if I was right in my non-belief
and they were wrong, no harm had been done. If it was the other way
round, then a good word had been put in for me.
There is no recurrence of my cancer at present.Captain Kim Mockett, Littlebourne, Kent

Sunday, February 14th

You are my
♥’s
delight

THIS morning I perused a picture gallery labelled
‘Animals kissing for Valentine’s Day’. There were caterpillars, pigs,
squirrels, fish, swans...

A smiley collection of images for sure ― but to be
truthful they were not so much kissing as mostly rubbing noses à la the
traditional Eskimo greeting.
Also, the kissing involved same-species creatures: the pair of
squirrels, for example, being the exceedingly cute red variety.

Then I remembered a photo I captured a few years back
along my daily sunrise walk through the Towy Valley, involving
Ermintrude the cow and Mister Ed the exceedingly friendly neighbourhood
stallion...

♫♥♫♥♫♥♫
You must remember this,
A kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh...

The fundamental things apply,
No matter what the future brings...

But who is that intruder playing gooseberry? Fancy a threesome, Missy?

A Valentine Dream

Ermintrude awoke with a start. Mister Ed, her
beloved, enquired as to what had brought about that sudden jolt. She sighed and
said: “I just had a dream that it was Valentine’s Day and you gave me a
pearl necklace with a big bell on it. What do you suppose it means?”

“You’ll know tonight,” said Mister Ed with a knowing
nod and a quick swish of you-know-what.

That evening Mister Ed came in from the fields with
a package in his mouth and presented it to Ermintrude.

Delighted, she opened it ― only to find a book
entitled “The Meaning of Dreams”.

Saturday, February 13th

Zip that lip

YESTERDAY I mentioned that, while I do not actively
engage with Social Media, I do enjoy perusing, for example, the daily Top of
the Tweets compliments of Twitterland.

The other day I came across a rather neat tweet ― but it
needed some background information, a few dots joined up to paint a
picture.

Good old Rod Liddle in The Sunday Times, as usual,
comes to the rescue...

Many degrees of madness

More cheering news from our university
campuses. At my old college, the London School of Economics, a society
has been set up to promote freedom of speech ― an antediluvian notion
that is quite rightly abhorred in almost all of our institutes of higher
education.

Common sense should soon prevail, because this society is
itself facing a call to be banned.

A student called Maurice Banerjee Palmer has demanded the
anti-ban society be banned because, among other reasons: “They don’t
seem to have put any effort into understanding the rationale behind safe
spaces, or their effect.”

No indeed. “Safe spaces” are places where students can go
when they don’t wish to hear views that might diverge from their own,
and these days they constitute the entire campus.

Maurice is training
to be a lawyer, incidentally.

And that clever tweet I mentioned?

@peterboghossian: “I have more in common with people who
believe Jesus walked on water than I do with people who want to ban
speech on campus.”

We do indeed live in a strange world. As this perplexed
correspondent to a national newspaper points out:

Fantasy Island

“IS
THIS the real life? Is this just fantasy? A man in charge of a football
team to be paid more in 3½ days than our Prime Minister earns in a year.”
Graham Andrews of Bideford, Devon in a letter to the
Daily Mail.

I can only repeat what I have said hereabouts before;
indeed back on August 22 last year this Daily Mail
clickbait caught my eye...

Is our universe FAKE? Physicists claim we could
all be the playthings of an advanced civilisation

That’s the radical theory put forward by a number
of scientists, who claim there is a possibility that our world
is merely a computer simulation ― and there may be evidence of
this if we know where to look...

As I said at the time, that is certainly not a radical
theory here at Look You. To recap:

When I stand and stare at the utter doolallyness of the
world about me, I often think that, like Graham Andrews in the above
letter, this life is not for real.

Indeed, I sometimes wonder if, whisper it, I am God. And
that I am just playing a game ― a computer simulation, a sort of dress
rehearsal to iron out all the creases of madness here, there and
everywhere on Planet Earth.

Or Ole Blue Eye,
as I identify the planet in my Universe Challenge game.

But hang about: if You are reading this ― then perhaps
You are God, and I am just a component, a character, a plaything in
Your computer simulation.

What else can possibly make sense?

Last gasp

Finally, with Wales having defeated Scotland
today at the rugby, now is an opportune moment to share and enjoy a letter
spotted in
The Times:

Money’s worth

Sir, Tuppence
Middleton has been brilliant in War and Peace on
television. Any chance ― for the sake of happy nomenclature ― of
introducing her to the equally brilliant Wales rugby star Leigh
Halfpenny?Benedict Le Vay,
London SW19

Very
witty. Sadly, though, Leigh Halfpenny didn’t feature today as he is
still grounded
with a long-term leg injury.

Mind you, ‘nomenclature’ is not a word you hear in the
Bible (I’m fairly sure), or in the Asterisk Bar down at the Crazy
Horsepower Saloon (I’m 100% sure).

There again, if the lovely Mrs Tuppence Halfpenny was a
regular at the Crazy Horsepower, she’d be known affectionately as Mrs
Circa One New Pee, or CP1 for short.

Incidentally, Urban Dictionary throws up this neat
definition:

Tuppence ha’penny millionaire

A person who
pretends to have millions of pounds in the bank, but actually struggles
to find a penny to scratch their ass with.

Hm, I personally know one or two of those.

Friday, February 12th

Day trip to Twitterland

ONCE upon a time, those in the media ― newspapers,
magazines, radio, television ― could promote their views and opinions unhindered.
And the media of course wholeheartedly embraces the world of celebrity.

Now we might well be overwhelmed with the need to give
many meeja folk a good old slap apropos their thoughts and opinions ―
metaphorically speaking of course ― but essentially we
had to like it or
lump it. End of.

Then came the internet and something called Social Media
― and suddenly Jo Bloggs could respond with his or her take on life, the
universe and everything, instantly, unhindered, and hoover up a huge
following in the process.

I do not actively engage in Social Media ― it strikes
me as yet another addiction to add to the list ― but I do enjoy perusing the best of, as in
say,
Twitter.

A perfect example is this beckoning clickbait headline in Mail
Online...

It’s the BBC’s dream PC line-up!
New Top Gear hosts revealed and
the internet is quick to notice there’s ‘a black guy, a woman
and a foreigner’ (and, of course, a ginger)
[what, no gay in the TG village?]

So I embraced the Twitterati view of New Top
Gear, as in this promotional BBC image, but with added info thereon to help
explain what’s what and who’s who...

Fudgey @fudgecrumpet“Meet the new Top Gear Team”

11/01/2016: The BBC today unveiled the full Magnificent
Seven-person team due to host the new-look Top Gear show when it
returns to the screens in May. As well as the
previously-announced Chris Evans (centre) and Friends actor Matt
LeBlanc (third from left), the new team includes German racing
driver Sabine Schmitz (second from left), unknown technology
journalist Rory Reid (left, and who
got on the show by submitting an audition tape and calling
himself ‘the lovechild of Idris Elba and Jeremy Clarkson’),
former Formula One boss Eddie Jordan (second
from right) and YouTube star Chris Harris (third from right).
And a tall person in a helmet (someone called Jezzabel?).

[Thinks: is Rory Reid (‘the
lovechild of Idris Elba and Jeremy Clarkson’) supposed to be the
token gay in the TG village? Or perhaps it’s Chris Harris (‘The
guy inside Tinky Winky’)? Or Sabine Schmitz, even? Goodness,
this is all so very confusing for a simple country boy like me.
And where, pray, is the BBC’s very own lovechild, Clare Balding,
in all of this? Clare, after all, delights in having some horse
power between her legs.]

Be all that as it James May, Top Gear fans instantly went online commenting that the
line-up suggests the show will be very different from its famously
politically incorrect style under former hosts Jeremy Clarkson, Richard
Hammond and James May.

The photo of the crew also sparked a series of online
memes, with the team being compared to My Little Pony and Roland Rat.

So let’s enjoy these marvellous memes...

Scott Wilks @scottwilks“New Top Gear line-up get train to first photoshoot”

Apart from the sky-high smileometer reading of the
picture, what a fabulous photo that is. A human Sphinx? Mind you, I’m not
sure what health and safety would say. And hang about: is that
Jezza Clarkson on the parallel track, waving them off?

Next, straight out of the Top Gear stable...

And, Top Gear investigates the commuter Rat Run with Roland Evans in charge...

And I thought ... hm, why shouldn’t I join in all the
fun?

Now I have always thought of Chris Evans as a bit of a
chipmunk. I mean, it’s the way he talks and acts on his breakfast radio
show ― my excuse being that I listen to him so as to charge up my juvenile gene to
hopefully see me through the day, much as you would plug in an electric car
for a quick boost.

So here we are...

♬
♪
♫ ... You Spin Me RoundChris
on the left, A-lister Matt LeBlanc (Alvin to his fans and
essential for Top Gear’s international appeal) in the middle,
with German pussychip Sabine Schmitz making up the trio

And on that bombshell...

Thursday, February 11th

♬
♪
♫ ...
Off he went with a Trumpety-Trump, Trump, Trump, Trump...

Zazzle Dazzle by Eloquents

THE OTHER day I quoted columnist Rod Liddle: “I want to
see President Trump ― if only because of who he’d annoy.”

I am with Rod ― and it gets better. A clickbait spotted in
The Telegraph:

No sympathy for the Donald: The Rolling Stones join Adele, Neil
Young and other A-listers angry that Trump is using their music

Good old Nellie must be trumpeting triumphantly in her grave.
Go the Donald.

Be all that as it may, this delightfully doolally world of ours ―
gravitational waves and all ― must keep on turning.

For example...

Scotland over a barrel

“OH NO!
Look at the oil price!
Now we’ll never get rid of the Scots!”
Phil North of Brigg,
North Lincolnshire in a letter to the Daily Mail.

Yes, have you noticed how few barrel rolls Alex Salmond
is performing these days? And Nicola Sturgeon is looking less slick by
the day.

♫♥♫♥♫♥♫

“Stop!”
cried the UK mama fish, “or you will get lost.”
But the two little fishies didn’t want to be bossed.
The two little fishies went off on a spree,
And they swam and they swam right out to the North Sea ... etc, etc...(With apologies to lyricists Josephine
Carringer and Bernice Idins)

In her 1944 movie debut, To Have and Have Not,
Lauren Bacall told Humphrey Bogart: “You know you don’t have to
act with me, Steve. You don’t have to say anything, and you
don’t have to do anything. Not a thing. Oh, maybe just whistle.
You know how to whistle, don’t you, Steve? You just put your
lips together and... blow.”

Sometime during their fabled love affair, Bogie
gave Bacall a golden whistle charm to honour the meeting. When
he died in 1957, the charm was buried with his ashes. Bacall had
it engraved with the phrase, “If you want anything, just
whistle.”

Now how delightful is that?

Ah, but what would I like to take to the grave?

Hm, I’ll have to sleep on that one ― and hopefully wake up as well to
make suitable arrangements before I finally roll over and enter The Big Sleep.

However, before I lay my head on my pillow for the night: Every day a day at school
whistler spot...

So was hir joly whistle wel y-wet
(the following compliments of Word Histories)

Since medieval times, the word whistle has been jocular for the mouth or
throat as used in speaking or singing.

The expression ‘to wet one’s whistle’, meaning to take a drink, is found
as early as, approximately, 1386 in The Reeve's Tale by Geoffrey Chaucer
(1340-1400).

He yexeth, and he speketh thurgh the nose
As he were on the quakke,
or on the pose.
To bedde he goth, and
with hym goth his wyf.
As any jay she light was
and jolyf,
So was hir joly whistle
wel y-wet.

Translation:

He belches and speaks through his nose as if he had a frog in his throat
or a cold. His wife went to bed also, as light and frisky as any jay, so
well had she wet her jolly whistle.

I DUNNO, where’s it all going to end? These days
we have to engage in safer drinking, safer eating, safer
language, safer sex ― that symbol alongside makes me think:
Chastity belt locked ... check...

Anyway, on Google there were loads of tips to
stay safe online. And the first line of defence? A strong
password: **** *** (an easy one to guess, that, but a
cracking thought though).

All this brings me neatly to:

Speaking in tongues asterisks

“DAME HELEN MIRREN has received much praise recently
for taste and discretion with her clothing. So that just leaves the foul
language...” Jacqueline Deeks of Rustington, Sussex in a letter
to the Daily Mail.

“If your brain was donated to science, science
would return it.” Dame Helen Mirren
ridicules drink-drivers in an American advertising campaign, and featured
on television during last Sunday’s Super Bowl.

Well,
if Dame Helen’s own brain was donated to the science of etymology and
semantics ― the study of the history of words and the relationship
between signs and symbols, especially the use of asterisks in the
printed word, presumably ― then science would grab her brain with both hands.

It would be fascinating to know, though, why Dame Helen finds it
increasingly impossible to speak in public without effin’ and blindin’
all over the place.

There was a report the other day confirming that, as older
people enter their second childhood phase and start to show first signs of
serious doolallyness, their obscenity output explodes dramatically.

I hope old Dame Helen, 70, is not losing it, poor thing.

‘I am on the train’ of the day

“Now at Starbucks, where I am the oldest person in
the room. Next stop, the Oldie of the Year Awards, where I will be the
youngest.” Gyles Brandreth, 67,
English writer and broadcaster, moves with the times.

Very
amusing ― and best of all, you can actually hear Gyles saying that.

Next, a
letter in The Times:

Driveway to haven

Sir, Carol Midgley describes the misery
of trying to park outside your house in a city (Notebook, Jan 29). My
neighbours and I have the luxury of unlimited acres of parking space ―
but face a 65-mile car trip to the nearest major hospital.
Some you win, some you lose.Sylvia Crookes, Bainbridge, Wensleydale

Well said, Sylvia Crookes. Swings and roundabouts rule,
OK?

And finally...

Smile of the day

“I USED to have gadgets that ran like clockwork:
all I had to do was wind them up. Now I only have gadgets that wind me
up.” Cheryl Hawkins of
Hastings in a letter to the Daily Mail.

Actually, that goes on the shortlist for Quote of the
Year.

Monday, February 8th

EU turn if you want to...

AS the latest EU referendum poll shows a nine-point lead
for Brexit, is the Leave camp heading for victory?
(WARNING: Terms and conditions apply i.e. the polls could still be
getting things horribly wrong.)

Be that as it may (or most likely June), a couple of letters climbed up my smileometer.

Advanced driver test

“Apropos David Cameron’s EU renegotiation, it is not an emergency
brake the nation needs but a three-point turn.” Mike Bridgeman of
Devizes in a letter to The Daily Telegraph.

Wordy wise

“FLOCCINAUCINIHILIPILIFICATION
― [the action or habit of estimating something as worthless]
― the
perfect word to describe David Cameron’s long-winded EU reform
nonsense.”P A Hull of Cannock in a letter to the Daily Mail.

Now that’s an exceedingly smiley observation. In fact, it could give
rise to a whole new word to describe Davy Cameron’s EU renegotiations:

FLOCCININYOUREUDREAMSSUNSHINE ― the default reaction to a
politician you would not trust further than you could throw ― and as if
by magic, it happens to feature the same number of letters as its
inspiration.

Move along there

There was a smashing MATT
cartoon over the weekend ... in celebration of David Cameron prompting
much anger in his own party by telling MPs to ignore the views of
eurosceptic grassroots members (honestly, Cameron is such a gloriously
old-fashioned kind of spiv).

Anyway, the
MATT
cartoon: A man is reading the paper, and his good lady sat next to him
is busily knitting away. She turns to him: “You
should join the local Conservatives. You have a lot of views that
deserve to be ignored.”

Spell-cheque corner: This is the first time I have mentioned
‘Brexit’ ― a newly surfaced word referring to the ‘Leave
the EU’ camp ― and my computer, unsurprisingly, did not recognise it.

It suggested ‘Bruit’, meaning:
1)
rumour or report: a story, true or untrue, that is passed about among
people (archaic)
2) medicine: a medically significant but abnormal sound
heard inside the body, usually with the aid of a stethoscope, and caused
by turbulent blood flow within the heart or blood vessels, a murmur.

How about that? For ‘Brexit’ read ‘Bruit’: a nation with a turbulent and
revolutionary murmur beating firmly at its heart.

Yes, we are truly pissed off with our movers and shakers, whether they
be politicians, civil servants, bankers, corporate giants, media experts...

Sunday, February 7th

Make it snappy

A
BRACE of images have effortlessly shot up my smileometer.

The first, spotted on Twitter...

Classic Pics @Classic_picxThe cast of Harry Potter cast: Then vs Now

Now how funny is that? Brilliant. I highly commend a visit to the House
of Classic Pics for an endless river of memorable captions added to
familiar pictures:

As
a bonus, the next picture has also been all over the shop over the
weekend. A brilliant Photoshop exercise was my initial reaction ― but
all is not what it’s not, so to speak...

What the puck?
Pampered junior ice hockey players at work, rest and play

Yes, it’s an actual photograph. Untouched. Well, as far as I can tell.
And I did spot it in The Times, a newspaper which always points
out a Photoshopped image (unless of course the paper itself has been
fooled).

The picture features a few of Canada’s London Knights ice hockey team
watching their game against The
Niagara IceDogs (both major minor ice hockey teams in the Ontario Hockey
League)
in St. Catharines, Ontario.

Do
you suppose they were expecting to get the shite knocked out of them?
Well, it is a rough, tough old game.

But what a clever and exceedingly witty shot it is.

And the second-in from the right takes the prize. Well, he does look as
if he’s just done a whoopsie.

Saturday, February 6th

The Catcher in the Eye

THE OTHER day I stumbled upon a Twitter thread dedicated to the Weirdest
Book Title Ever. And there were some glorious eye-catching crackers,
this one being a perfect example...

Feeling sheepish in wolves’ clothing

Amazon: Hardcover from $275.00
11 Used from $275.00
1 Collectible from $1,349.95

Amazon: Paperback from $249.98
11 Used from $249.98
2 New from $759.40

What astonishing cover prices those are. So I wondered about the author
(presumably now dead, hence the cost), and more to the point, what the book was all
about.

So
I searched out some reviews ... which ranged from 5 Stars down to just
2. In fact the one I thought most informative was this:

Goodreads.com
Leah Nicolich-Henkin (rated 2 Stars out of 5)
Witty and intriguing title: A+
Living up to title: C-

There is a lot of raising wolves. There is almost no Jewish-Japanese Sex
and Cooking. (There is one Jew in a couple of chapters, and about a page
of Japanese cooking. The only actual sex is between wolves.)

Basically the book is a somewhat humorous but mostly just strange
account of raising a family of wolves in suburban Connecticut. This part
is reasonably interesting, but it is interspersed with occasional
sexist, racist, or homophobic comments. I might overlook these in a
really great book, but not in one such as this.

In
short, I recommend that someone else take this marvellous title and use
it for a better book.

Then I came upon this...

@ manofmany.com
Man of Many in Entertainment, Lifestyle

Do not let the title of The Jewish-Japanese Sex & Cook
Book and How to Raise Wolves fool you. There is some raising of wolves
but hardly any sex and no real Jewish-Japanese fusion cuisine to speak
of.

Jack Douglas [1908-1989, American comedy writer] was a
humour writer working in the 1970s and appeared to relish filling his
books with as many socially unacceptable jokes as humanly possible.

With the benefit of politically correct hindsight there
is no way Douglas would have been published today with his perchance for
sexist, racist and homophobic cracks.

However, if you fancy an insight into the heyday of the
nerve touching 1970s give Douglas a read. Perhaps it will show just what a
big a stick we have up our butts these days.

Interesting. But at $249.98 a copy? I think not. I
wonder, though, if my local library has it lurking in the system. Probably not,
but I shall visit next week to enquire.

Oh yes,
Jack Douglas has also written a book called My Brother Was An Only Child, which
is another eye-catching and thought-provoking title.

The final word

The hardback/paperback info on the Amazon website about
The Jewish-Japanese Sex & Cook Book Etc took me back
mega-moons, to a cousin of mine, sadly no longer with us, Brian Rees,
who was a car dealer.

He told the tale of an attractive lady buying a new
sports car, a TR3A Roadster, the basic vehicle coming with either a soft
top (fabric) or a ‘clip-on’ hardtop as standard. If the buyer wanted
both then it would add to the cost, obviously (the hardtop being a sound
investment in a typical British winter).

Anyway, the deal is nearly done, so Brian asks her: “Soft
top or hardtop?”

“Oh, definitely a hardtop,” she said, with a hint of
wickedness, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

Nine times out of 10 I never actually click on the bait
because I enjoy setting off on my very own flights of fancy apropos the
doolallyness of the world about me.

But should you, dear visitor, want to find out more ― well, all you need
do is take the headline and feed it into Ivor the Search Engine or
Google or Whatever.

So, on with the show ― and three perfectly doolally
clickbaits catch my eye: from the sublime, via the ridiculous, to the
appalling...

North Korea bombards South with balloons packed
with used toilet paper and cigarette butts in bizarre propaganda
war

☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼ ☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday!
Mile-high KO, OK?

Delta Boeing 757 diverted after fist fight
between air hostesses at 37,000 feet

☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼ ☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼

‘Bus Stop Cat’ who was famous for being friendly to hundreds of
commuters mourned after being ‘kicked to death’ by thugs

Finally though, especially after that last one about the
poor cat, a clickbait just spotted and which will
raise the spirits no end:

You won’t believe the secret to a long life for the
recently-deceased Spanish man who lived to 107---

Four bottles of red wine each and every day ― two bottles with
lunch and another two with dinner ― and never drinking water

I trust all that splendidly uplifting news about
the Spaniard who animated my life,
Antonio Docampo Garcia, isn’t a mistake and that it really was
four bottles of wine a day and not four red grapes a day ―
remember that amusing tale from a couple of days back?

Thursday, February 4th

Humanity’s Doolallypedia litmus test update

THE FOLLOWING are all online British newspaper clickbaits spotted over recent
days...

Ah, but is that ‘power surge’ going to be AC, DC or Three
Phase? You know, is it a little bit of this, a wee touch of the that, and a
whole bunch of the other? We should be told.

And don’t let me start on Womenopause ― or the
‘power blackout’ as we chaps down the pub call it...

Next:

Sex bomb: Could dynamite be the cure for erectile
dysfunction?

A series of scientific studies suggest that
nitro-glycerine might one day rival Viagra as a treatment for
erectile dysfunction

My God, it gives a whole new meaning to a blow-up doll.
Imagine the explosion if my nitro-glycerine-soaked thingamajig was ever
to come into contact with Kay Burley’s power-surge thingamabob ... Wham!
BANG!
Thank you ma’am.

Hissing and spitting and purring

The following two clickbaits featured as the top two ‘Most shared’
stories on The Telegraph website at 1700hrs last Friday:

Woman says she is a cat trapped in the wrong body
― she hisses at dogs, hates water and claims she can even see
better at night

☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼ ☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼

Men need nights out with the lads,
scientists say

☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼ ☼
☼ ☼ ☼
☼

Now c’mon, after that cat woman story, are you
surprised we chaps disappear down the Crazy Horsepower Saloon at
the slightest hint of baring of claws and teeth?

“Listen, if my husband did what Bill Clinton did,
I would have left him long ago.” Carly Fiorina,
Republican presidential candidate, tells it as it is and that
Hilary should have bared her claws and teeth a lot more at her
stinky old tomcat.

Yes,
Bill and Hilary remain a curious couple ― which ensures that
politicians remain the least trusted and respected members of society.

And how about this exceedingly curious Telegraph clickbait?

Are Donald Trump’s teeny-tiny hands harming his
presidential chances?

He wants to hold the reins to the world’s
greatest superpower ― but are Trump’s hands big enough?

What a bizarre headline that is ― I was tempted to click
... but made my excuses and moved on
― however, I shall keep an eye open for those hands of his. Actually,
I have read somewhere that he hates shaking hands and will avoid it
wherever possible. Hm, interesting.

The only advice I was ever given about hands was to make
sure that I only got romantically involved with girls with small hands ― because they
would make my thingamajig look bigger. Impossible to fault that logic.

The final word goes to columnist Rod Liddle:

“I
want to see President Trump ― if only because of who he’d annoy.” I know exactly what Rod means. Indeed, I would give anything to see
the ‘Out’ campaign carry the EU referendum ― if only because of the
total political chaos it would leave in its wake, especially inside the EU.

In fact, my guess is that Britain would do just fine on
its own simply because it’s an island and its DNA is awash with survival
genes and lifebelts.

Wednesday, February 3rd

One for the road

A COUPLE of letters spotted in The Telegraph...

Wherry not

SIR – My local pub serves Wherry beer. Yesterday I
ordered a pint and was met with a response from the barmaid of “No
Wherrys”.David Brown, Lavenham, Suffolk

Worrying development

SIR – Apropos revelations about the growing use of the
phrase “no problem”, I recently asked a staff member on a hospital ward
to stop using its variant, “no worries”, during a conversation about my
father, as, while she may not have had any, I did.
Her immediate reply was: “No worries.” Malcolm Watson, Welford, Berkshire

Actually, you can just hear the staff member (nurse?
doctor? physiotherapist?) saying that.

Anyway, mention of
Wherry’s beer brings to mind a recent clickbait reassuring me that ‘Eating
fresh red seedless grapes can help you lose weight or prevent weight
gain due to the low number of calories they contain’.

And so to a letter inThe Times...

Grape expectations

Sir, I was delighted to read that eating a
handful of red grapes four times a week will help me lose weight
(News, Jan 28). I am assuming that fermenting them first will
only add to this effect.Dr Andrew Stoddart, St Leonards on Sea, E Sussex

A Peter Young did respond, but rather spoilt
the joke by pointing out that, actually, it takes 75/100 grapes
to produce one glass of wine.

That last bit of info did generate an exclamation cum question mark, so I sent
Ivor the Search Engine out for a sniff and a slurp ... well, well:

It takes one cluster of grapes to make one glass of wine. There are
approximately 75 – 100 grapes to a cluster (depending on the grape
type). There are approximately four clusters to a 750ml bottle of wine.
One vine produces around 10 bottles of wine.

A quick word

“One
reason why I don’t drink is because I wish to know when I am having a
good time.” Nancy Astor (1879-1964),
American-born English socialite and politician, quoted in the Christian
Herald (1960).

One of
the members of the local Hole In The Head Gang I used to hang out with
back in the day, had a habit of declaring after a night on the tiles:
“Had a wonderful time last night. Can’t remember a thing.” I empathise
with both my drinking pal and Nancy Astor.

Talking of boozing...

Nature vs nurture

Richard Dawkins, 74,
English ethologist, evolutionary biologist, writer and an emeritus
fellow of New College, Oxford, recently gave an interview to The
Times.

In
a ‘Quick fire’ section, one question asked was this:

Nature or nurture? “That is a very complicated question, you can’t
possibly expect a one word answer.

Hm. Now I earned my University of Life degree working as
a barman at the Crazy Horsepower Saloon. There I learnt that nature is
the hard drive delivered at conception, while nurture is the software
subsequently added. However, software can easily be corrupted,
overwritten and deleted.

As a barman I observed that with every drink consumed
during a ‘session’, a layer of learned behaviour (software) was removed.
When drunk, people expose themselves in the raw, in the hard drive of
life.

Indeed they behave in
the way you would expect them to act when sober but put under extreme
stress ― or importantly, when behind closed doors at home.

As a rule of thumb, some 10 per cent of people when
pissed become amusing, witty, silly, exhibitionists ― and generally
exceedingly entertaining company.

Mostly though, people become awkward, argumentative,
difficult, bolshie, aggressive ― and a few morph into something quite
violent which demands the handle-with-extreme-care treatment.

As I may have mentioned hereabouts before, my advice to
anyone deciding to go into partnership with someone, whether it be personal or
business, is to first get that person really drunk ― while remaining
absolutely sober yourself.

The result will tell you everything you ever need to
know.

So: nature or nurture? Well, nature every time.

‘Look away now’ Clickbait of the Day
(Compliments of The Telegraph)

Lose weight: eat chocolate cake

Tuesday, February 2nd

Gone with the wind

DURING my Kit Kat mid-winter break, one of my favourite
clickbaits was this one spotted in The Telegraph...

Daniel Radcliffe plays a farting corpse ― and Sundance Film
Festival audience walks out in disgust

The former Harry Potter star’s latest film, Swiss
Army Man, also features a scene in which Radcliffe’s penis is
used as a divining rod

Now how perfectly doolally is that? A Swiss
Army Man with his Swish Army Penis, a trusted and wizard tool of
adventurers around the world, whether exploring the city, the
oceans, the mountains ― and indeed the boudoirs.

I did not click, obviously, because that would have
unceremoniously wedged a sprag between the spokes of my go-anywhere 4x4 imagination .
(Incidentally, with January a month when so many celebrity entities bit
the dust, a quick thought on the passing of the Land Rover Defender. RIP
LRD.)

Anyway, back with that Swish Army Penis: now if I had only known about that divining rod line
when I was the regulation young buck about town zooming along the local
highways and byways in my smileometer-rich TR3: “Why don’t
you come up sometime and see me and play with my divining rod.” “Oh, you smooth talking
Nogood Boyo you ... and who knows, I may well whisper ‘welcome to the well’.”

And then I spotted this missive, again in The Telegraph...

Build-up of wind

SIR – While driving
through the prairies of northern France, we were amazed by
the number of wind turbines and found ourselves musing on what the
collective noun might be for such an accumulation.
Could it be a generation?Trina Golland,
Hatfield, Hertfordshire

Fair
play, Trina, that is rather good. Anyway, the suggestions
wafted in on the breeze in droves.

A squander, a ballet, a folly, or an eyesore

Bob Broughton of
Laleston in Glamorgan: A generation of wind turbines
would only work if they did significant generating. I suggest a
squander would be more appropriate.

Julia Evans of Beganne, Morbihan in France: I have always called
it a ballet. The turbines’ elegant tapered blades resemble
legs in white tights.

John Anderson of Nelson in New Zealand: The collective term for
turbines should be an eyesore.

Mike Bridgman of Cheltenham in Gloucestershire: Given their
proliferation across the countryside, might they be described as a rash?

Gordon Crook of Bottesford in Nottinghamshire: A folly?

Simon Ragsdale of Swinford in Leicestershire: A subsidy.
Without that noun, they would not exist.

Stephen von Bertele of Acomb in North Yorkshire: A
mendacity?

Ken Grimrod-Smythe of Ingbirchworth in South Yorkshire: A
bitter blow?

Jeffrey Cook of Abergavenny in Monmouthshire: An
abomination.

What a broad canvas of locations responding to that question.

Anyway, as for my thoughts ... well, given the farting clickbait that triggered
today’s dispatch, how about a windbreak of turbines?

Or could it be a Tara of turbines? Or
even a Ta-ra of turbines? Tara of
course being the home of Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With The Wind.

Oh yes,
TARA*
is also the acronym for the Timed Antagonistic Response Alethiometer,
a type of lie detection technique.

Every day a day at school spot

* The TARA is a computer-based technique.
It requires respondents to classify a succession of mixed statements as
true or false, as quickly and accurately as they can, by pressing one of
two keys.

The faster they do so, the more likely they are to be
telling the truth; the slower they do so, the more likely they are to be
lying.

The TARA works by manufacturing an artificial situation
in which lying is more challenging than truth-telling. Specifically, it
permits truth-tellers to complete two alternating tasks using the same
strategy, but requires liars to complete them using contradictory
strategies.

Hence, if both
truth-tellers and liars complete the TARA accurately as stipulated, then
the former will complete it more quickly than the latter, all else being
equal.

How perfect do you suppose it would be if David Cameron had to sit a
TARA test apropos all this EU three-card-trick business?

Finally...

Dodgy déjà vu utterance of the day

Punxsutawney Phil emerges at Gobblers Knob

Monday, February 1st

Back under smiler’s orders

A REVIEW in last Saturday’s Times
newspaper of ‘a children’s book for the very young about sharing
happiness’ happened to catch my perusing eye. I quote:

Be happy, cheer up, look on the bright side, just grin,
goddammit!

The book is Pass it On (2-5) by Sophy Henn:
Her main message is that of a squillion R&B songs: “Share the love.” Yet
hers comes with no musical accompaniment but smart rhymes and beautiful
pictures. It is neither preachy nor cloying.

A child in a red hat jumps out of bed with a good
intention: “When you see something terrific, pass it on.” I don’t think
she’s talking about that photo of the white giraffe that looks like
David Bowie [check it out online, very smiley], but rather kindness and
goodwill.

“If you chance upon a chuckle, hee-hee-hee and pass it on;
Should you spot a thing of wonder, jump for joy and pass it on.”

Well now, checking out today’s TV &
Radio listings in The Sunday TimesCulture magazine,
their first CHOICEfollowing
the PICK
OF THE DAY was
this…

There is something of the Fast Show sketch about this simple,
instructional art show, which originally ran in America between
1983 and 1994, yet it is not without its soothing charms.

The presenter is Bob Ross, an unlikely former master sergeant
who died in 1995, and he radiates calm from beneath his perm as
he paints a natural landscape [“We artists don’t make mistakes.
Just happy little accidents.”].

There are tips on painting horizons, lakes and clouds, but
Ross’s real appeal is his post-hippie insistence that his
viewers “just take your time and make beautiful, beautiful
things.”Culture magazine review

Now all that rang a bell. I seem to remember something
similar when I first stumbled upon satellite television, oh some 20
years ago, in particular on an American channel.

So I watched it today on PBS America ― and there it was,
as I remember it. And as mesmerising as when I first saw it.

I’m no artist ― yes, I have an ‘O-level’ in Art, but I
was never grabbed by the lapels by the art of art ― but watching Bob
Ross paint away is so astonishingly relaxing and smiley.

Apart from his obvious talent, it’s his communication
skills and reassuring wrap-around voice that touches the spot. Not to
mention some truly neat throwaway lines.

Bob Ross (1942-1995), American painter“I started
painting as a hobby when I was little. I
didn’t know I had any talent. I believe talent is
just a pursued interest. Anybody can do what I do.”

‘The Grey Mountain’, featured above, he painted from
scratch in some 25 minutes, which I find exceedingly impressive.

And there’s something quite sobering in the realisation
that he was dead four years after painting it, at the age of 52.

Check him out. It’s on PBS every weekday morning at
9.00am, repeated just after midday. Actually, they show a couple of
episodes in tandem, which I sense is a bit of a shame. One episode at a
sitting is somehow more satisfying.

You will also find his tutorials on YouTube. Try ‘Bob
Ross – A Walk in the Woods (Season 1 Episode 1)’. Mind you, he’s not
quite as laid-back in that first ever episode as in the one I watched
today, which is fair enough.

Now what was it author Sophy Henn said? “When you see
something terrific, pass it on.” Tick √.

Finally, and importantly ... Sophy Henn has words for dull days too. “So
when the sky is grey and rainy you’ll know just what to do ... grab your
wellies and mac, splash a smile and pass it on.”

c.99 seconds walking in my
moccasins:
I was born on the sunny side of a Welsh
hillside, at a place I
affectionately call
Big Slopes, on the 26th and the 28th
of
November, in the Year of the Horse......
More

My
favourite horse chestnut in Dinefwr Park,
Llangorgeous ― still looking remarkably like
Wales on song ― starts to show its autumn
tints in a Towy Valley sunrise
October 2014

***************************************

A solitary visitor
puts down unexpected
and surprising roots in a corner of the
garden ― both it and a flying visitor
add hugely to my smileometer readingAugust
2014***************************************

The sight and scent
of the bluebell and the
wild garlic blooming together - in a corner
of
Castle Woods, Llangorgeous - both
confuse
and delight the senses...22/05/2013**************************************

'Solitaire',
the welcome first bluebell of
a late and cold spring, spotted this day
in Castle Woods, Llancoldness - brrr!05/04/2013************************************

A handsome and
friendly little bluetit
captured against a background of
Towy Valley
snowdrops
06/02/2013**************************************

As perfect as a flower...
The folk who live on the hill at
Rainbow's End, Towy Valley,
Nr Llandampness, Welsh Wales
09/12/2012

**************************************

In Flanders fields
the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below...
02/11/2012

*************************************

I knew that this
glorious Olympian
sunrise, with the sun seemingly
hanging on a golden ribbon,
would one day tick the right box
04/08/2012************************************Not quite a flower; however,
summer arrives two months
late at Dinefwr Park, Llandeilo —
but as always, better late than never!
24/07/2012************************************

A strikingly handsome
daffodil
spotted in the grounds
surrounding my home

***********************************

The elegant Duchess of
Cambridge
sports a couple of daffodils, the
national flower of Wales, on her
lapel in
honour of St David's Day
[plus a handy posy, of course]

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January: the year's first
welcome
visitor - no prizes
for guessing
the identity of this little beauty*********************************
the last autumnal leaf on the
tulip tree outside the cottage -
and the epitome of a tulip flower
*********************************